


on the road between us

by astroblemish



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dudebros, M/M, Skaters AU, gratuitous no homo jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroblemish/pseuds/astroblemish
Summary: Time moves forward and people change, but Jongdae doesn't --and maybe that's exactly what Chanyeol needs.





	on the road between us

**Author's Note:**

> because i was dying over chenyeol as dudebros and a Certain Someone told me to write it so naturally, i did. thanks for that one.  
> or, well, i _meant_ to write a dudebros au, and then somehow it turned into... This. this fucking mess right here.
> 
> however, it's truly my magnum opus, and ive hit my peak, because nothing i create will ever be the perfect combination of utter stupidity and total existentialism like this fic is --my only two qualities of self. i can retire now, and i can also assure you that nothing will ever be mashed together in as much cadence as this is, so enjoy, really. i dare you.  
> it's far from the fic i wanted it to be, and im far from the sort of writer that could actually fix it up, so just. take it. i guess.

* * *

Chanyeol is with Baekhyun when it happens. They’re hanging out, as per usual, at the skatepark, legs swinging at the edge of the bowl as Baekhyun lies on his back with his tongue sticking out, furiously racing against the clock in candy crush, and Chanyeol just traces his fingertips up and down his board’s grip tape, neck craned to the sun. He feels like the brownies his sister tried to bake, that one --and only-- time when they were kids; hardened, bland, and very burnt --he doesn’t mind the sensation, too much.

Chanyeol’s phone buzzes in his back pocket at the same time Baekhyun’s quacks in his hands; Baekhyun sits up so fast Chanyeol’s pretty sure he _'_ ll be getting whiplash just because it’s contagious, or something, and Baekhyun says, “ _Oh my fucking god_.”

“What?” Chanyeol asks, furrowing his brow, and when he pulls out his phone it’s just a text from Jongdae that reads, _cant make it 2day, soz_ and nothing else in the _Sk8 or Die_ group chat. To enunciate his point further, after getting no reply from Baekhyun, Chanyeol tilts his head and makes a facial expression that physically represents _???????_

“ _Dude_ ,” Baekhyun says, and waves his phone around frantically. “When does Jongdae ever skip out on us? Something awful must’ve happened.” To prove his point, Baekhyun sends _we r comin over immediately, what u need?_ Into the chat.

 _Ice cream_ , comes Jongdae’s reply, _lots of it_.

“Oh my _fucking god_ ,” Baekhyun says, _again_ , and stands up. “I can’t believe this is happening. Holy shit.”

“What?” Chanyeol tries again, just as confused before. Baekhyun ignores him. “ _What_?”

“No time to explain,” Baekhyun says, hurriedly, and kicks his board up into his hands, readjusting the snapback on his head. “Emergency S.O.S, let’s go.”

“ _What_ \--” Chanyeol says, or at least tries to, but already Baekhyun is pulling at his wrist, dragging him out of the park as Chanyeol fumbles in an attempt to get his board under his arm, failing to catch up as per usual.

 

 

✪

 

 

Which is how Chanyeol ends up at Jongdae’s studio apartment in downtown, with three tubs of the most cholesterol inducing _Ben & Jerry’s _flavours and no less confused than he had been half an hour ago. Jongdae comes from one of those fancy, upper-class families with butlers and arranged marriages but skating had always been Jongdae’s way of escaping all of that, or something, digging into daddy’s precious little trust fund to keep himself afloat while editing for an online magazine, or something. There’s probably some code in the skaters-r-us manual that says rich boys can’t be soft grunge, but Jongdae usually sends all of that to hell with the help of a couple of piercings on each ear and an overbearing collection of flannel shirts, the very definition of punk rock.

Except today, Jongdae doesn’t look soft grunge so much as he just looks soft… _soft_ , and very,  _very_ sad. His nose is red, his eyes a little swollen, and each piercing has been carefully removed from his ear, leaving him only to drown in a pair of adidas tracksuit pants and an oversized t-shirt that has _THE GRIND NEVER STOPS_ printed across it’s surface.

“Hey,” Jongdae croaks out, weakly, and for the first time since… well, ever, Chanyeol thinks Jongdae kind of looks like a fucking mess. “Took your time.”

And then he’s snivelling, but not really crying --because he’s _Jongdae_ \-- and Baekhyun’s left his board by the entryway as he’s crushing his best friend against his chest, wrapping his arms around Jongdae’s neck. Jongdae sniffs, only once, but gradually brings his arms up until his hands are digging into Baekhyun’s shoulder blades, Chanyeol still awkwardly standing by the door with three tubs of ice cream melting in his arms.

“So like,” Chanyeol starts, and shuffles from foot-to-foot. “The fuck?”

Baekhyun breaks away from Jongdae, _glaring_ , but Jongdae just laughs, wiping his nose on the back of his hands as he picks out the ice cream with pretzels in it --which Chanyeol is fairly sure is a sin against the natural order of the world-- and laughs.

“Sunyoung broke up with me,” Jongdae explains, and Chanyeol’s jaw drops as the remaining two tubs of ice cream nearly fall from his arms because… well, because _holy shit_. Jongdae and Sunyoung have been together for as long as Chanyeol has even known Jongdae, and they always seemed like that couple from fairy tales or really, really bad fanfiction. The rich bad boy with the angsty, mysterious past, and the earnest hardworking girl from the wrong side of the tracks with the kind of smile that could make anyone reconsider anything. Except Jongdae isn’t angsty at all, and all the trains in their city are underground in the metro, so they had fit together even more, somehow, Jongdae’s smile just as brilliant as Sunyoung’s.

But Chanyeol always puts bros before hoes, even if slut-shaming is a stupid concept and Sunyoung had been nice as hell.

“Shit, man,” Chanyeol says. “What a… bitch?” He tries, hoping that maybe a little bit of misogyny and good ol’ fashioned complaining will make Jongdae feel better.

Instead, though, Jongdae just huffs out a laugh as Baekhyun shoots Chanyeol a look that can be interpreted as _good work, idiot_. “Nah, she was great,” Jongdae says, heading to the kitchen counter in the corner of the room and pulling out three spoons from the cutlery drawer. He looks at Chanyeol then, strangely. “We just wanted different things.”

Chanyeol gulps, feeling extra confused for some reason --even though he _just_ got an explanation-- and Baekhyun looks at his phone, cursing.

“Binge time, boys,” he says, jiggling the phone in question, a shitty android with a cracked screen because he and Chanyeol can’t afford anything better. “No one’s covering on late notice so the clock’s ticking.”

And binge they do, diligently, just the three of them like it has been for years now. Baekhyun goes for salted caramel because he can’t stand sweet things, which leaves Chanyeol with chunky monkey (‘ _cause you’re an ape_ , Baekhyun says, hitting Chanyeol’s shoulder repeatedly, _get it?_ )

Chanyeol’s picky when it comes to food but being with Baekhyun and Jongdae makes him forget about the abomination that is banana ice cream, even if it’s just for a little while. They sit around Jongdae’s flat screen TV that’s playing daytime reruns of shitty 90’s sitcoms and kick at each other with socked feet, Baekhyun and Chanyeol continuously trying to outdo each other’s stupidity in an attempt to get Jongdae to laugh. It works, many times, and by the end of the afternoon Chanyeol’s throat is all gross from too much sugar, his stomach aching from laughing too hard, and there are three tubs of ice cream with spoons sticking out of them on the coffee table, standing side-by-side.

“Duty calls,” Baekhyun says, grunting as he stands, and Chanyeol offers him a half-hearted wave from where he’s slumped on the couch.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” Jongdae tells him. “You sell those R rated games to moms who don’t know any better or die trying!”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes --if not affectionately-- and shuts the door behind him, leaving Chanyeol and Jongdae alone on the couch, watching the screen. As per usual, Chanyeol’s got nowhere to be, no one waiting for him, and nothing to do, so he has no excuse to leave, but can’t really think of any reasons to stay either.

One episode passes, and then another, and by the time of the 83532nd ad break, Chanyeol finally cracks.

“Do you want me to go?” He blurts, and Jongdae simply arches an eyebrow from where he’s sprawled out in a similar position to Chanyeol, blinking.

Jongdae isn’t Chanyeol’s best friend, and Chanyeol isn’t Jongdae’s, but they have some weird sort of relationship where they share a best friend like a platonic threesome, making every line in their relationship kind of blurred and a little confusing. Chanyeol likes Jongdae, and they get along well, but sometimes Chanyeol can’t help but feel that maybe Jongdae only puts up with him because of Baekhyun, nagging at the back of his head.

Plus, Jongdae looks at Chanyeol funny sometimes, like the way Chanyeol imagines people look like when they’re gazing outside a window, as if he’s looking straight through glass and scrutinising every little detail within.

Which he’s doing right now, actually, making Chanyeol want to squirm.

“Nah bro,” Jongdae relents, eventually, and turns back to the TV impassively, chewing on his cheek. “Company helps.”

Right, because Jongdae is emotionally vulnerable and Chanyeol is here to help him forget about all that with ice cream. And no alcohol, for some reason --probably because Jongdae’s an emotional drunk. Chanyeol tunes back into the TV, but soon enough he’s fidgeting, wriggling, unable to focus properly. He pulls out his phone and starts playing random games on it that he downloads by mooching off of Jongdae’s wifi, and when those start getting boring too he tries to catch up on whatever Jongdae’s watching, but finds he hasn’t been paying attention enough to keep track.

Throughout it all, Jongdae just keeps sending Chanyeol amused glances, and by the time Chanyeol’s down to his third fit of wriggling, Jongdae says, “Hey, Chanyeol…” and trails off, biting his cheek. “Can I suck you off?”

Chanyeol chokes on nothing as he splutters, red-faced, coughing desperately. Jongdae just looks bemused.

“ _Dude_ ,” Chanyeol says, indignant and still coughing. “Not funny?”

“Wasn’t a joke,” Jongdae remarks, and shrugs casually, like he hadn’t just prepositioned Chanyeol -- _the heterosexual_ \-- on his couch at three o’clock in the afternoon after eating a litre of ice cream, watching way too many sitcoms with too many white people in them, and getting fucking dumped. “So can I?”

Chanyeol’s mind is so confused he’s pretty sure the world’s fastest rubik’s cube doer couldn’t sort it out, or some shit. “What?”

“Can I suck you off?” Jongdae repeats, a little slower.

“ _What_?” Chanyeol repeats, dumbly. “And-- And _why_?”

“Why not?” Jongdae asks, rhetorically, and moves so that he’s sitting a little straighter, giving Chanyeol that _look_ again, the one that makes him feel like a book that’s being read, with Jongdae licking his fingers before turning each page and dog-earring the corners.

“Um, because I’m not fucking gay?” Chanyeol says, because he isn’t, really, hasn’t been for as long as he remembers. Not that he has anything against it because love is love is love is love, or whatever, but still. Heterosexual. Hetero. Girls. Boobs. Vaginas. The whole shebang. Straight.

Just like Jongdae is --or, at least, what Chanyeol used to think Jongdae _was_.

“Bro, neither am I, it’s just a little oral between friends,” Jongdae snorts, and pushes the blanket off of himself, stretching until a little strip of pale skin shows between his shirt and his pants and Chanyeol thinks, _huh_. “It’s not like I’m marrying you --now that would be gay.”

He has a point there, Chanyeol supposes, and head is head regardless of who’s giving it --besides, Jongdae’s kind of pretty, maybe, like one of those paintings that only make sense when you take a few steps back and tilt your head and squint. He’s not unattractive --for a guy, at least-- but then again, Chanyeol wouldn’t know, because he’s not fucking _gay_.

“C’mon,” Jongdae whines, stalking forwards on his hands and knees. “It’ll be fun.”

And from up this close, with Jongdae in his face and grinning at him mischievously, Chanyeol thinks Jongdae is pretty no matter how far away you’re standing away from him, with thick, dark eyelashes and curled lips, wide, sparkling brown eyes.

“But you…” Chanyeol swallows, and his mouth feels so dry it’s like all the air has filled him up and choked him, made it impossible to breathe. “But you just got dumped.”

Jongdae huffs a laugh, and draws back a bit, which at least allows Chanyeol’s lungs to reboot and start functioning again, in through the nose, out through the nose --he usually doesn’t have to think about it this hard.

“I’m single,” Jongdae says. “Not _drunk_.” He paws at the top of Chanyeol’s thigh in an annoying, childish way, voice high-pitched. “ _C’moonnn_ Chanyeollie, it’ll make me feel better.”

And who is Chanyeol to turn down some free, consensual head? Especially if it will make Jongdae feel better. Jongdae is right when he says a blowjob is just a blowjob, and Chanyeol can always just close his eyes, or something, pretend it’s some celebrity crush, maybe. Bros always come first, and Chanyeol wants to help in any way he can.

“Okay,” Chanyeol relents eventually, letting out a rush of air as his heartbeat picks up. “Yeah, okay.”

Jongdae grins at that, brightening, and suddenly the prospect of looking away becomes impossible when Jongdae spreads Chanyeol’s thighs and lies between them, trailing his fingers down the tops of Chanyeol’s legs as he just lies on the couch, eyes even wider than usual.

“You sure this is okay, dude?” Jongdae asks, patient, and Chanyeol nods so hard something in his neck _cracks_. “Because I don’t wanna force you--”

“Jongdae,” he chokes out. “Just do it.”

Jongdae hums happily and makes slow work of lifting Chanyeol’s shirt up with his fingers, kissing down his abdomen. Chanyeol’s already turned on just from the prospect of getting blown, but Jongdae kissing along his hip bones and slowly zipping down his fly helps too, breaths so short he thinks he might faint.

On second thought, “This is kinda gay,” Chanyeol mumbles, threading his fingers through Jongdae’s hair. It’s not a sign for Jongdae to stop by any means though, so he doesn’t, just hums noncommittally as he starts tugging Chanyeol’s shorts down, Chanyeol lifting his hips to give better access.

“Hey dude, _I’m_ the one putting your dick in my mouth,” Jongdae says, poking at Chanyeol’s half-hard dick as if to prove a point. “If that’s not true friendship then I dunno what is.”

“True,” Chanyeol agrees, albeit reluctantly, and Jongdae smiles again, nudging down his underwear until Chanyeol’s half-naked and exposed for anyone looking through Jongdae’s window to see --which, he hopes, no one is.

“Wow.” Jongdae comments once he pulls Chanyeol's underwear off, and whistles, Chanyeol blushing so hard his ears feel like they’re going to catch fire. “Where have you been hiding this bad boy, dude?”

“In my pants,” Chanyeol mumbles lamely, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m impressed.” Jongdae remarks, genuinely appraising Chanyeol’s dick like it’s one of those fancy rich people art pieces that go to the highest bidder, head tilted as he regards it carefully. “Like really… well done.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol mutters, still burning red, but his erection is kind of dying a little in the face of all this embarrassment, so. “Hurry up?”

“Yessir,” Jongdae says happily, and asks, “You’re clean, right?” Through the haze Chanyeol manages a nod, Jongdae saying, “Good, me too.” As he has no qualms about running his tongue up from the base to tip, making Chanyeol jerk sharply as his hips snap upwards.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathes out, and can't tear his gaze off of Jongdae, who’s watching him from behind half-lidded eyes and a small smirk before going right back to the licking thing. There had been something textured there, in the licks, and when Jongdae opens his mouth Chanyeol catches it and tips his head back, groaning.

He’d completely forgotten that Jongdae has a tongue piercing, but clearly Jongdae hadn’t, as he grinds the smooth stud right against the head of Chanyeol’s dick. Chanyeol groans again, face contorting, and his hips lift, Jongdae holding them down.

“Slow down Chanyeol,” Jongdae says, but Chanyeol barely hears it over the blood roaring in his ears and the harshness of his panting. “I like to take my time.”

And take his time Jongdae does, making a show of kissing the top of Chanyeol’s thighs, licking his cock, and then wrapping his mouth around the head and _sucking_ , only to pull back, rinse, and repeat. Chanyeol doesn't know for how long this continues as Jongdae continuously wrings him out and leaves him to dry, but he maybe has some regrets about letting Jongdae do this to begin with. It feels like a level of sexuality about his bro that Chanyeol _shouldn't_ know about, but then again, that thought kind of dies when Jongdae puts Chanyeol's dick in his mouth and _sinks_ , all the way until it hits the back of his throat.

“ _Jongdae_ \--” Chanyeol croaks out, and moans when Jongdae hums in acknowledgement, eyes slipping shut as Chanyeol winds Jongdae’s hair between his fingers and tugs sharply in warning. “I’m-- I’m close--”

 _God_ , Chanyeol can barely form more than three words, and if he’d known Jongdae had been so good at giving head he would’ve asked for this sooner, gay or not. Jongdae continues sucking, pressing his tongue against the head, and when Chanyeol pulls his hair again _he_ groans, sending vibrations up Chanyeol’s entire body and causing him to whimper, shaking by the time Jongdae pulls back, pushing at his jaw.

“God,” Jongdae croaks out, voice wrecked, and before Chanyeol can even ask what’s wrong Jongdae wraps his hand around Chanyeol’s dick and tugs, on edge enough to push him further as he cries while coming, a half-dead question stuck in his throat as his whole body contorts and Jongdae pulls back, wiping his hands off on the tissues by the coffee table.

“Your face is so ugly when you come, dude,” Jongdae giggles, snorting, and Chanyeol’s still on the eighth plane of existence from that mind-blowing orgasm, so it’s kind of hard to make sense of the words.

“Bro, you should be winning awards for that mouth,” Chanyeol blurts, still feeling like six feet of jelly as he just lies on the couch with his pants around his ankles and his dick out, kind of sticky and gross. “Like, _seriously_.”

“Aw, thanks man,” Jongdae says, smiling mischievously with his tongue between his teeth, Chanyeol swallowing when he catches sight of the batman-shaped stud. “My mouth has _many_ uses.”

It almost sounds like a promise, and Chanyeol shudders again, brushing the thoughts away.

“Feel better?” He asks, and remembering his manners, says, “Need me to suck you off too?” What’s that saying, again? About friends scratching each other’s backs? Jongdae’s clearly hard in his sweatpants anyway, and Chanyeol’s never given head before since he’s not gay or whatever, but he’s pretty sure he could wing it. They may be in their twenties, but they’re still boys; dicks don't exactly take rocket science to get their engines blasting.

Jongdae laughs, the cackling, bubbly laugh. The sound of it is weirdly reassuring.

“I do, actually,” he says, almost a little sheepish with the tops of his cheekbones tinged pink. “And I mean, dude, if you’re up to it--”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says, shrugging, and tucks his dick back in before leaning forward and watching the way Jongdae swallows, eyes wide as Chanyeol crawls between his thighs. Is this what Chanyeol had looked like when Jongdae had done the same? It’s a weirdly empowering feeling. “Heads up though, bro, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay,” Jongdae says, winding his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and sighing in contentment as Chanyeol tugs his tracksuits down and presses his tongue against the cotton of Jongdae’s already wet briefs, tasting it gingerly, Jongdae hissing in return. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

Chanyeol shrugs, and hopes his eagerness and resourcefulness pulls through --it’s not the first time Chanyeol's ever had to wing something, and it definitely won’t be the last. Besides, Chanyeol’s a little too excited to risk messing up now, glad that he can help make his friend feel better with a little casual head between bros.

 

 

✪

 

 

“Were you at Jongdae’s this whole time?” Baekhyun asks, frowning as he stands by the microwave, where the scent of leftover pizza hangs in the air.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies, and dumps his keys on the dining table right next to a dirty plate that’s been there for three weeks and a tiny figurine of Peppa Pig that nobody knows the origins of. “Just wanted to make sure he was okay, y’know?”

And Jongdae had seemed okay after he’d come all over Chanyeol’s face because Chanyeol had pulled back too early --or too late, depending on who gets asked-- and then spent the next ten minutes laughing hysterically together about it, clutching at their sides. With their so-called _brojobs_ over and done with, they’d watched episodes of _Brooklyn Nine Nine_ together until Jongdae fell asleep with his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, blowing hot air against his neck with each snore. Chanyeol had carried Jongdae --who’d turned out to be surprisingly heavy despite his size-- back to his bed and let himself out, leaving a glass of water by Jongdae's bedside and a text telling him to call if he needed anything.

“Oh,” Baekhyun says in realisation, and his face falls into clear concern. “How was he?”

Chanyeol shrugs, turning his face to the side so Baekhyun can’t see the way he’s blushing.

“All G, I reckon,” Chanyeol answers, and when the microwave beeps the door to Sehun’s bedroom opens, Sehun taking the pizza and slinking back into the darkness, not even acknowledging Chanyeol in the slightest. Sehun’s found some method of existing that allows him to pay rent while never leaving his room and pretending like neither Baekhyun nor Chanyeol exist --it would be more offensive if it weren't just plain impressive. Besides, it’s kind of cool, having a ghost for a roommate, even if Sehun insists he’s alive --Chanyeol’s never actually seen any proof that he is.

Skin no longer reddening, Chanyeol walks to the fridge and reaches for a can of mountain dew, only to notice the sight of Baekhyun’s legs --or, well, the lack thereof.

"Is that... A shirt?" Chanyeol blurts, rubbing at his eyes, and Baekhyun shifts from foot-to-foot, embarrassed. He’s wearing a light blue button up, and jeans with _no holes in them_ , meaning that it might be the first time Chanyeol has ever seen Baekhyun’s legs covered. There’s no snapback on Baekhyun’s head, just smoothed down pink hair --even the bandages stuck across the scrapes on his palms and elbows from never wearing safety gear are just the boring brown colour, no Captain America shields or Hello Kitties, and his fingers are paint and marker free. About the only thing that even tells Chanyeol that the person in front of him is, in fact, _Baekhyun_ , are the black converse on his feet, laces loose and hanging, and he feels like he just went into the Upside-Down, or some shit.

“Who are you and what did you do with Baekhyun?” Chanyeol says, amazed, running his eyes up and down Baekhyun’s body, blatantly staring. He didn’t even think Baekhyun owned anything that either a) didn’t have holes in it or b) didn’t have the word _SUPREME_ printed across it obnoxiously. “Oh my god,” Chanyeol gapes. “The next thing I know you’re gonna sprout tentacles and ask to probe me.” Baekhyun frowns at that, but Chanyeol’s too busy reeling to care. “Mankind’s fucked, dude. We’re not worth it. Just go back to whatever planet you came fro-- _Ow_.”

“Asshole,” Baekhyun grumbles, and pulls at his collar like it’s choking him after pinching Chanyeol, even though he has the top button undone. Then again, considering the loose clothing Chanyeol and Baekhyun both have a habit of wearing, it might as well be choking him.

“Baekhyun has a date,” Sehun provides, smirking, plate already empty as he stacks it on top of the pile just above the dishwasher, rather than like, in the actual dishwasher. Chanyeol laughs at Sehun’s joke, but Baekhyun’s face is about as pink as his hair, so he ends up gasping eventually instead, hitting Baekhyun’s arm.

“And when were you gonna tell me, huh?” Chanyeol asks, shocked by the revelation, continuously hitting until Baekhyun wrinkles his nose and pulls away, pushing Chanyeol’s hand.

“Hopefully never,” Baekhyun mumbles, and Chanyeol holds a hand against his chest, affronted.

“Bro code number thirty-nine states that you have to tell me!” Chanyeol shouts, indignant, and follows Baekhyun’s mumbling self even as he walks to his room, trying to avoid Chanyeol. “So who’s the lucky girl?”

Baekhyun pauses at that, mid-step, and from somewhere behind Chanyeol, Sehun starts coughing, laughing into his hand.

“... Nobody that you know,” Baekhyun answers, glaring at Sehun behind Chanyeol, and starts shutting his bedroom door, leaving Chanyeol on the other side. “I need to get ready, so skedaddle, Chanyeol--”

“Wait--” Chanyeol says, and cries out in pain when Baekhyun closes the door on his foot because wow, okay, that hurts a lot more than it looks like it would on TV. Snivelling, and holding onto his foot as Baekhyun watches, unimpressed, Chanyeol asks, “You coming out tomorrow? To the park? I thought we could maybe help keep Jongdae company--”

Baekhyun purses his lips, and frowns, “I have work.” He says shortly. “Sorry.” It doesn’t sound sincere in the slightest, but he shuts the door before Chanyeol can follow it up, leaving him awkwardly standing outside it with a foot in both hands and a crease between his eyebrows, swallowed by his own confusion.

“What’s up with him?” Chanyeol asks, jabbing his thumb, but Sehun has already disappeared, leaving nothing but the grease stains of two pizza slices and a dirty plate to mark that he’d ever existed to begin with.

In the emptiness of his own full apartment, Chanyeol sighs.

 

 

✪

 

 

“Baekhyun’s not coming,” Chanyeol tells Jongdae as he jogs to catch up to him, Jongdae just looking down at his phone and frowning. “So I guess it’s just us.”

“Guess so,” Jongdae replies, pocketing his phone and grinning strangely before kicking off, skating down the edge of the bowl and pushing to gain momentum, kickflipping up at the other side. Jongdae’s always been the best skater out of the three of them, with the best technique and most skill, but it’s never been jealousy Chanyeol’s ever felt so much as it’s just awe. Jongdae’s just kind of effortlessly amazing like that, and it never fails to take his breath away.

Ignoring all thoughts of the weird, tangible thing that’s cropped up between him and Baekhyun, Chanyeol grins and kicks off too, skating parallel to Jongdae as they skate up and down at differing times like opposing pendulums, grinning at each other each time they pass the other.

Chanyeol had expected the brojob thing to maybe bring some sort of awkwardness between them, but somehow, it doesn’t. In fact, their relationship seems better than ever, and it’s the first time Chanyeol’s ever felt on truly equal footing to Jongdae as they grab cheap stall tacos by the train station and flick fallen diced tomatoes at one another. Jongdae seems happy, and that makes Chanyeol happy by proxy, further self-satisfied with the way that Jongdae, even though he’d just got dumped or whatever, is happy because of _Chanyeol_.

“You got a little--” Jongdae gestures to his nose, and Chanyeol wipes at his own, blinking at his hand as it comes back clean. “--Here.” Jongdae relents, and giggles as he reaches out with his thumb and wipes guacamole right off the tip of Chanyeol’s nose, licking it off his finger. “Can’t let those extra two dollars go to waste.” He says.

“Y-Yeah,” Chanyeol chokes out, blushing for some reason, and forces himself to laugh to hide it, turning away slightly so Jongdae won’t see. Jongdae has a nice mouth, and a nice tongue, too. Definitely useful for many things, such as cracking jokes, sucking dick, and getting rid of misplaced guacamole.

Jongdae frowns, but it’s only momentary before a brilliant grin breaks out across his face, contrasting with the red blood of his flannel shirt and the darkness of his eyes, his hair, the rings and studs he has in each ear.

“Wanna come home with me?” He asks casually, and kicks the skateboard by his feet into his arms, holding it almost… cutely, somehow. “It’s… It’s kinda lonely back home,” he admits, wary. “And I figured we could finish off what we started last night?”

It takes Chanyeol an extra twenty seconds for him to realise Jongdae is talking about the series of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ they’d started, and not the… other things, they’d done yesterday, laughing after far too much silence.

Clearing his throat at the end of his fit, Chanyeol smiles. “Sure,” he says, and the grin Jongdae gives him in return is totally worth it, even if it makes his stomach twist a little bit.

Then again, maybe that was just from bad street food.

 

 

✪

 

 

Turns out Jongdae had kind of meant both, because by the time the credits roll at the end of the first season --which ends on a cliffhanger, _what the hell_ \-- his hands are tracing up and down Chanyeol’s thighs and he’s biting his lip, waiting for Chanyeol to say it’s okay.

"So this was a booty call," Chanyeol says, suspicious, and Jongdae laughs sheepishly, cheeks pink.

"More like... a  _bro-oty_ call," he says, and then frowns, clicking his tongue. "Nope, that doesn't work phonetically at all." He turns to Chanyeol, biting his cheek. "You up to it?"

Instead of answering, Chanyeol just leans forward and mashes his mouth into Jongdae’s, kind of messy, wet, tasting too much like garlic from Mexican food, and banging their noses and teeth together in its hurriedness. Pulling back, Chanyeol laughs sheepishly as Jongdae just blinks at him, staring into space.

“No homo?” Chanyeol offers, because yeah, okay, kissing is maybe a _little_ too gay, but he doesn’t like the idea of sex without kissing, because… because Chanyeol really likes kissing, and it feels right, somehow, to kiss Jongdae. Still laughing nervously, Chanyeol grabs Jongdae’s wrist and fist-bumps his limp hand, but only before Jongdae’s surging forward and kissing him so forcedly it steals all the breath from Chanyeol’s lungs.

Jongdae’s a better kisser than anyone else that Chanyeol has kissed in his life thus far --which, admittedly, isn’t too long of a list-- but Chanyeol’s certainly not complaining, gasping as Jongdae kisses him with a sort of hunger and rushed feeling to it that it’s hard to keep up, nails digging into Chanyeol’s cheeks as he shoves his tongue into Chanyeol’s mouth, Chanyeol sucking on his tongue piercing, Jongdae biting his bottom lip, moving his mouth down to Chanyeol’s cheek, his earlobe, his jaw, the curve of his neck.

Chanyeol’s getting hard just from kissing --which is a little embarrassing, but he’s only human-- but then Jongdae’s straddling him and rubbing their erections together and Chanyeol _groans_ , turned on from Jongdae’s mouth on his neck and the fact that _Jongdae’s turned on by this too_. It feels different to the simplicity of blowjobs, from yesterday, more heated, more hungry. They’ve both had a taste of the other and kind of want more, and Chanyeol almost thinks to say that this is definitely gayer than yesterday, but he doesn’t want to deter Jongdae, and at the end of the day they’re still just two friends helping the other get off to relieve stress, nothing more. It doesn’t have to define them as anything more than friends.

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae breathes out, against Chanyeol’s lips, and Chanyeol hums back in acknowledgement, fluttering his eyes open. Jongdae looks beautiful like this, lips wet and a little swollen, eyes blown wide and darkened by sheer arousal, panting lightly. “I want--” Jongdae bites his lips, and Chanyeol sits up just that little bit more, attentive. “--I want you to fuck me.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitches, and Jongdae watches him, slightly embarrassed but also careful, any words dying halfway up Chanyeol’s throat.

“I’ve--” Chanyeol licks his lips, gulping so hard it’s audible in the thick silence of the room. “--I’ve never-- something like that--”

Jongdae laughs, and it’s so sweet sounding, relieved and amused all at once. “That’s okay,” he says, and Chanyeol bites back a hiss when Jongdae shifts to get more comfortable, grinding his ass down on Chanyeol’s dick either accidentally or not, Chanyeol doesn’t know. “It’s not too different from the usual.”

Chanyeol hasn’t exactly done ‘the usual’ either, but he definitely doesn’t feel like telling Jongdae that either, since for some reason he and Baekhyun are convinced that Chanyeol’s some penetrative extraordinaire, or something, and he’s never really bothered telling them otherwise. His own inexperience with men might as well make up for his inexperience with women, either way, as Jongdae kisses him lightly before rolling his hips, just to keep Chanyeol on his toes.

“If you need time,” Jongdae mumbles. “We can always do it later.”

Chanyeol’s brain freezes at the insinuation of their… helping each other out, being a regular occurrence, but he shakes his head quickly, Jongdae giggling at his eagerness.

“I want to,” he admits, licking his lips, because he… he really just kind of fucking does. “Just lead me through it, dude.”

There’s no one Chanyeol trusts more to guide him than one of his closest (and only) friends, and Jongdae grins before standing, Chanyeol whining a little at the lack of pressure against his dick before Jongdae just takes his wrists into his hand and tugs Chanyeol towards the bedroom, gesturing for him to sit by the edge of the bed as he goes into the bathroom, rummaging below the sink.

“You know the basics, right?” Jongdae asks conversationally, as he tosses a condom into Chanyeol’s lap and Chanyeol just sort of stares at it with wide eyes. Swallowing, he nods. “Then that’s all you really need.”

Chanyeol’s nervous, but it’s in both anticipation and worry. He doesn’t want to fuck it up too badly, and although he trusts Jongdae to tell him whether he’s doing it right or not, like he had… yesterday… that doesn’t mean he trusts himself all too much. Things like this can hurt, Chanyeol knows, and that’s definitely the last thing on his list to do tonight.

“Hey,” Jongdae says, and takes Chanyeol’s face in his hands, kissing him long and deep until the crease between Chanyeol’s eyebrows washes away. “If you don’t want this, then we stop, dude.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, breathing deeply. “No,” he says finally, and pulls Jongdae back against his mouth by tugging at his wrist, feeling a strange sort of giddiness at the way Jongdae melts against him. “I definitely want this.”

It takes more strength and coordination than Chanyeol actually thought he had, but he manages to flip Jongdae until he’s beneath him on the mattress and kisses him slowly, taking his time to catch his breath. Jongdae seems all too happy to oblige though, smiling as he winds his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. Kissing Jongdae is just so _nice_ , so easy to tell when his friend doesn’t like something or wants it differently that and vice versa that it makes it heightened, somehow, so focused on pleasure for the other that any selfishness is washed away entirely. 

“This okay?” Chanyeol asks, as his hand pauses at the edge of Jongdae’s flannel, and Jongdae just snorts, peeling it off himself.

“ _Yes_ , Chanyeol,” he says, almost patronisingly, and Chanyeol just frowns before Jongdae kisses it away, pulling the band shirt underneath off too. Chanyeol takes his own singlet off as well, and the feeling of skin-and-skin heightens their kissing somehow, Jongdae raking his nails down Chanyeol’s stomach as they press into each other, grinding their hips.

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae gasps, and Chanyeol inhales too at the disconnection of their lips, panting. “Can we--”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol blurts immediately, reaching for the condom from before. “Fucking-- _yeah_.”

Jongdae grins, and they wriggle their shorts and socks off together, Jongdae pushing himself up to the bed head as he grabs the bottle of lube he’d gotten earlier and pours some on his fingers, rubbing it between them to make it warmer.

“Watch and learn,” he says smugly, and Chanyeol belatedly wonders how he’s ever meant to _stop_ watching Jongdae when he’s just so beautiful, all lean lines and sharp edges, punctuated by the corners of his mouth and the pointed, dark look in his eyes. Jongdae bites his lips, and gasps as he pushes his fingers into himself, Chanyeol’s eyes going so wide it feels like they’re going to start watering soon if he doesn’t fucking _blink_ , too afraid he might miss something. Jongdae fucks himself onto his own fingers, and Chanyeol knows he should be keeping note of the technique or something, for the next time, but he’s honestly just a little too enraptured in the way Jongdae fingers himself to take note of anything else, right around now, the way Jongdae fingers himself while looking at Chanyeol, imagining it's him.

Jongdae pushes in a second, and then a third, and soon he’s gasping at his own fingers as his hips rock forward and cries out Chanyeol’s name uselessly, Chanyeol surging forward and kissing him, rubbing their naked dicks together and gasping into each other’s mouths.

“Okay,” Chanyeol breathes out, panting so harshly it’s like there’s no oxygen in his bloodstream, only the sensation of _Jongdae, Jongdae, Jongdae_. “What now?”

“Condom,” Jongdae mumbles, swallowing. “And lube. Like. A lot of it.”

Chanyeol laughs, and his fingers are kind of shaking in excitement and nerves too much to make tearing the condom wrapper easy, managing eventually as he rolls it over and reaches for the lube bottle on the bed. Delayed, he wonder when Jongdae had ever done this before, and with _who_ , but the thought of another dude fucking Jongdae isn’t exactly helping the mood, so Chanyeol pushes the ugly green prickling his vision away, focusing on the task at hand.

He strokes himself with a lubed hand and groans, shuddering just at the thought of what’s to come enough to have Chanyeol getting wet, and Jongdae licks his lips before pushing Chanyeol back against the bed, Chanyeol’s eyes widening as he realises what’s about to happen.

“Ready?” Jongdae asks, and Chanyeol croaks out a _yeah_ , before Jongdae is sinking down, causing Chanyeol to gasp as his toes curl, forcing his hips to stay still in fear of hurting Jongdae, waiting for him to make a move.

“--Feel _so_ good,” is all Chanyeol manages to hear from Jongdae before he adjusts and starts moving, every neuron in Chanyeol’s brain freezing and preventing thought as he’s too busy _feeling_ , thrown into the tightness and the heat, the way Jongdae rocks his hips and cries out as he rides Chanyeol exactly the way he wants to, showing Chanyeol _exactly_ how it’s done.

“Wanted this for so long,” Jongdae breathes out, and Chanyeol doesn’t even know how to form words, let alone sentences. So really, good on Jongdae. “Feel so good, Chanyeollie, _so_ good-- _ah_ \--” Jongdae inhales, and then he starts touching himself, Chanyeol groaning and squeezing his eyes shut as Jongdae just strokes himself right fucking there on Chanyeol’s goddamn cock. “Ever since yesterday-- couldn’t stop thinking about--”

“Me too,” Chanyeol manages, rasping, thinking about the way he’d gotten rid of his boner problem this morning by thinking about Jongdae’s mouth wrapped around it instead of his own hand. “ _Fuck_ you’re so good, _Jongdae_ \--”

And like that, Chanyeol comes, groaning at the sheer sensation of it, never being one for stamina either. He’s pretty sure there’s some rule about getting the bottom off first or something, but Jongdae’s technically on top anyway, and he doesn’t seem to mind too much, thrusting into his own hand and coming all over Chanyeol’s stomach.

“ _God_ ,” Jongdae pants, and falls forward, laughing as he presses a lubed hand against Chanyeol’s chest for balance and Chanyeol wrinkles his nose, not enjoying the sensation all that much. Jongdae stretches, and stands, wincing slightly.

“Did I hurt you?” Chanyeol asks, worried, but Jongdae shakes his head, smiling.

“Only in the good way,” he replies, and smirks, Chanyeol’s ears burning just at the way it sends shivers down his spine. “I was gonna shower though, dude, wanna come?”

“I’ve already come though,” Chanyeol jokes, dangling the tied up condom in the air to prove his point, and Jongdae just snorts in disgust before laughing reluctantly, pushing at Chanyeol’s arm.

“Please don’t tell me you’re keeping it as a souvenir,” he teases, and this time it’s Chanyeol’s turn to be disgusted as he wrinkles his nose and quickly tosses it into the trash can in the corner of the room, thankful that it had actually _landed_. Jongdae laughs. “C’mon dude, let’s get the lube off of you.”

“If you insist,” Chanyeol says lamely, grinning, and happily obliges as Jongdae rolls his eyes and pulls him off the bed, laughing even more as they stumble under the hot water and steam, smiling right into each other’s mouths.

 

 

✪

 

 

“Is that… is that a _hickey_?”

Stumbling, Chanyeol quickly reaches for his neck, and stares down at Seulgi, who’s giving him a _look_.

“Uhhhhhh,” he says, and grins sheepishly. “I burnt myself with a curling iron?”

“Do you even know what a curling iron is?” Seulgi asks, and when Chanyeol blinks down at her, snorts, shaking her head. “I can’t believe somebody liked you enough past your clothes to actually put their mouth on you.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Chanyeol asks, mildly offended as he looks at his outfit and frowns. It’s just the usual sort of combo, a hoodie, a t-shirt with the evolution of man printed on it --with the last, human silhouette being somebody skateboarding-- and cargo shorts with a pair of bright red, slightly scuffed vans. Chanyeol thinks he dresses well enough, although the snapback definitely makes the outfit --Junmyeon won’t let him wear hats on shift, though.

“...Nothing,” Seulgi says, smirking, and turns away, restocking the _Learn Saxophone - Grade One_ books back on the shelf. “So who’s the lucky girl?”

Chanyeol tenses at that, but Seulgi’s too busy stocking shelves to have noticed, relaxing when he realises she means nothing by it.

“Nobody that you know,” he mumbles, rubbing at the spot Jongdae had left just at the base of his neck, right where curves into his shoulder. He’ll have to tell him to leave no visible marks, next time.

Next time…

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Junmyeon adds, smiling pleasantly even though Chanyeol and Seulgi both know him butting in on the conversation means he’s double-checking that they’re actually doing any work --which they always are. Usually. Most of the time. “Maybe you’ve finally found someone nice to settle down with, huh?”

“Dude, I’m twenty-four, not _thirty_ -four,” Chanyeol snorts, and Junmyeon’s lips twitch downwards like they always do whenever Chanyeol calls him _dude_ \--which is, well, also usually. “I’m not old like you, I don’t need to settle down yet, jeez.”

“I’m twenty-six, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, frowning. Chanyeol just sighs, placing a hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“Exactly,” he says, and squeezing, and grins when he hears Seulgi start to giggle behind him. “Maybe it’s time you retire, y’know, pass the shop on down to me, find yourself a nice cottage in the countryside, adopt twenty cats and watch your grandkids grow up--” Junmyeon grips onto Chanyeol’s ear and _pulls._  “-- _Ow ow ow ow ow_.”

“Brat,” Junmyeon hisses, and lets go, Chanyeol pouting as he rubs at the spot tenderly. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you need someone to reach the top shelf,” Seulgi answers cleanly, and Junmyeon frowns while Chanyeol just grins and bumps Seulgi’s fist, taking the book out of her hands and placing it on the top shelf to prove her point. Junmyeon sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know why I put up with _either_ of you,” he corrects, mumbling. “A step-ladder would be far less headache inducing.”

Seulgi smiles sweetly before saying, “Fan service for customers?”

“Nah, Junmyeon’s too pure of heart for that,” Chanyeol says, and taps Junmyeon’s chest, grinning as he wraps his arms around his boss and gives him a back hug. “A tiny knight in shining, musical armour.”

“I’m firing both of you,” Junmyeon sighs, and Chanyeol laughs, pulling away.

“Even if I offered to close up?” He says, and Junmyeon pauses, glancing at him curiously. “Oh c’mon, dude, just take a night off for once. I’ve closed up plenty enough with you to handle it.”

“Yeah, Junmyeon,” Seulgi adds, smiling lopsidedly. “If Chanyeol’s old enough to settle down, then I think he’s old enough to close up for one night.”

Junmyeon bites his cheek before huffing. “Fine,” he says, and Chanyeol grins as Junmyeon dumps the ring of spare keys into his outstretched palm. “But if anything is even _slightly_ wrong, you’re--”

“--Fired,” Chanyeol and Seulgi fill in, simultaneously, exchanging a _look_ as they fight to keep the smiles off their faces.

“One of these days you two will get better jobs,” Junmyeon mutters. “And I’ll finally be free.”

Chanyeol only smiles and waves as Junmyeon walks out across the road to his car, Seulgi flipping him the thumbs up as she shuffles down to the station at the end of the road. With them finally out of the room, Chanyeol feels like it’s easier to breathe, and he slumps his forehead against the front door as he locks it to stop any customers from trying to come in, sighing, fogging up the glass panels.

Something about Junmyeon’s comments about _settling down_ and _finding a better job_ prick Chanyeol the wrong way, making his chest feel weirdly heavy. Picking himself back up, Chanyeol focuses on stashing the bills in the till away, tallying it up and putting it into the computer, rearranging stock and vacuuming the floors. He doesn’t close up the workshop just yet, though, knowing Junmyeon won’t mind as Chanyeol uses the professional tools to fix up a couple of loose strings on his guitar, satisfied when the sound comes out at the perfect pitch.

There’s also another reason Chanyeol wants to stay behind at Junmyeon’s music store, and it’s the grand piano in one of the back rooms where Joohyun teaches little kids sometimes, one of those big, fancy, black pianos with the half open top, Chanyeol giggling in giddiness as he presses his fingers against it. Joohyun’s last piano had gone so flat it had been beyond repair, so Junmyeon had gotten this one shipped in, arriving only a few days ago. Chanyeol hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of it ever since.

Tentatively, he plays the first few notes of an unwritten song that’s been stuck behind his teeth for the past few days, but it doesn’t come out just quite right. It’s probably more designed for guitar, Chanyeol thinks as he runs through it, but still experiments with the chords regardless, translating them into the sounds of a guitar in the back of his head. He just wants an excuse to play this piano either way, and this is a good enough of one, for now, as he continues running his fingers up and down the octaves.

Eventually, Chanyeol pulls himself away from the store, double-triple checking the lock behind him, and pockets the keys, skating down the now-dark street. Chanyeol knows his mom would probably lose all her hair if she knew how often he skated in the dark, but it’s honestly Chanyeol’s favourite time to do it. Nobody’s around, and the half pipe is completely free, for once, allowing Chanyeol to skate up and down and practice his 360 turns.

Chanyeol’s head feels foggy between the hickey on his neck and the way Junmyeon had looked at him, like Chanyeol had things left in his life to accomplish, but skating it out helps, as per usual --it always does.

Originally, snowboarding had been Chanyeol’s first love, but that had melted away with the snow as Chanyeol had realised a seasonal passion didn’t really fill the void in his chest, the overwhelming _need_ for himself to be consumed in something. Besides being seasonal, snowboarding was alsoexpensive, and by the time Chanyeol was sixteen his mother was already rooted in the opinion that he had to work for anything he wanted to earn --Chanyeol had never been any good at working too hard.

So skateboarding became the side-lover-turned-main and in his second last year of high school Chanyeol’s other obsession became Baekhyun, and vice versa. They were the perfect match of loud, stupid, bad at school, and hopelessly in love with skating, and it was an easy friendship from there on out, with Chanyeol spending more time at the shitty wooden ramp in Baekhyun’s backyard than in his own goddamn house.

But as always, life moved forwards, and soon Chanyeol and Baekhyun were bad at school _and_ bad at college, a rag-tag duo of dropouts finding Sehun through a _Craigslist_ ad and finding someway to split the rent three-way for a shitty apartment in the outer suburbs, with Baekhyun working at a video game shop in the city and Chanyeol working at Junmyeon’s all-purpose music store. Somewhere in between barely passing high school and dropping out of university Baekhyun’s long-lost childhood friend Jongdae moved back to town, and it’s been the three of them ever since, a bunch of already eaten dogs in a dog-eat-dog-world, too busy caring about the decals of their boards and the followings of the pros to worry about their dead end lives.

But still, it creeps up on Chanyeol sometimes, when he’s not focused enough to keep it away, the way everyone expects more from him, as if he hasn’t run out of potential. All Chanyeol will ever be is some deadbeat loser who dried out before anything remotely interesting could even grow, and it’s annoying that even skating isn’t enough for him, because he’ll never be good enough to do anything with it beyond venting his feelings through grinding and ollies.

Feelings of hopelessness are no stranger to Chanyeol, but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less. Time is always moving forward, changing, and Chanyeol’s constantly being left to rot in its skidmarks, watching as everything moves away and out of his reach.

Chanyeol’s wheels catch on the edge of the half-pipe, and he cries out into the night air, hissing as he skids down the halfpipe on his back side, elbows grazed. Chanyeol winces in pain when he stops at the base of the halfpipe, but he feels too tired to care, sighing as he looks up at the night sky, and realises that even it too, is beyond his reach, the stars so far gone they’re not even there anymore, hidden behind thick, dark, clouds.

Groaning, Chanyeol stands, and picks the gravel out of the skins of his palms, watching as his skateboard still rolls back and forth ahead of him, swinging like the pendulum on a clock that never stops. After all, time never ceases for people like Chanyeol --people who don’t try hard enough to deserve it to.

 

 

✪

 

 

“Dude,” Baekhyun says, mashing into his controller relentlessly as he flings something at Chanyeol which he fumbles to catch, causing his character to get headshot easily by a passing enemy. “Answer it?”

Belatedly, it is Chanyeol’s phone that Baekhyun had flung across the couch, blasting out Smashmouth’s All Star as Yura’s smiling face pops up on the cracked screen.

“Yo sis,” he says, letting his character get spawn camped as he walks away from the television and shuts his bedroom door behind him, drowning out Baekhyun’s loud cries of _fuck fuck fuck you fucker that’s right motherfucker--_ behind him. “What’s up?”

“Mom’s up my ass about you again,” she says curtly, and Chanyeol frowns as he throws himself onto the bed, the mattress just sinking beneath his weight because he couldn’t afford anything nice enough that would bounce. “She wants you there on Saturday.”

Chanyeol grunts noncommittally, and runs a hand through his bright red hair, wincing at the dryness of the overly-dyed strands.

“I think I met her like, once,” he says, in reference to the funeral being held for his mother’s friend’s sister, or some shit. Really, he was much more sympathetic when she’d died, but not sympathetic enough to show up to a room filled with family members tactfully asking him if he’s pulled his shit together yet, or not. “Why does she care so much?”

“Because she hasn’t seen you since Christmas, Chanyeol,” Yura chastises, clicking her tongue, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes because he already has one mother, he certainly doesn’t want or  _need_ another one. “And _I’m_ sick of playing carrier pigeon. Just show up, would you?”

“Fine,” Chanyeol sighs, grimacing. “But I’m not staying the night.”

“Works for me, little brother,” Yura says, and he can hear her satisfied grin even as she hangs up, grunting at the ceiling fan.

“What was that about?” Baekhyun asks, still mashing button aggressively while biting on the tip of his tongue as he headshots someone and yells out _booyah!_

“Nothing important,” Chanyeol mumbles, and picks up his own controller as he immerses himself back into the game, ignoring the weight of his own phone in his back pocket, taking out his aggression on twelve-year olds that swear too much instead.

 _hey_ , Chanyeol texts, later, after Baekhyun gives up on CoD so he could play some league, yelling even louder into the mic with Heechul or whoever on the other end. _wanna hang out this weekend?_

 _depends_ , comes Jongdae’s response, the three dots indicating he’s still typing. _what were u planning?_

Truth be told, Chanyeol doesn’t think he had been planning at all, because impulsiveness is one of those qualities he’s always had a struggle controlling. The idea of being in a room filled with expectations while alone is just too much, and he figures he and Jongdae have some sort of routine of helping each other out in a multitude of ways, these days, so for once, he doesn’t feel too guilty about asking.

Besides, Jongdae’s good at making Chanyeol forget about things, and it’s kind of exactly what Chanyeol needs, right around now.

 _a funeral_ , Chanyeol types, and snorts at Jongdae’s response of:  _gee… sounds fun. v upbeat. v lively_.

 _a wild weekend indeed_ , he types, still chuckling around the bottle of yoghurt as Baekhyun shoots him weird looks from his laptop in the corner of the living room. _u game?_

 _y not_ , Jongdae responds, and Chanyeol can picture the way he’d shrug, smiling to himself. _mayb seeing a bunch of other miserable ppl will make me feel better abt myself_

 _D: ,_ Chanyeol responds, with all the emotional queues of a twelve year old.

 _relax dude,_ Jongdae’s text reads _. im jk_. The ellipses pop up, and then disappear, and then pop up again. _ur surprisingly good at curing heartbreak_ , comes the eventual message, _and surprisingly good at giving head_.

 _cant believe u doubted me :(_ , Chanyeol sends. _ill come pick u up sat @ 10?_

 _i wont underestimate u again dw dw_ , Chanyeol grins down at his phone screen. _and yeah, works fr me_. Another case of the ellipses appearing, disappearing, and appearing again. _u sure it’s cool fr me 2 b in a room of ur relatives tho dude?_

 _Yeah_ , Chanyeol texts, but backspaces the next message of _there’s no one I’d rather be there with me_ before his impulsive thumbs can hit send.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol had forgotten to give Jongdae any details of the funeral beyond a pick up time and an end time, but apparently that doesn’t matter as Jongdae answers the door in a full black suit, black shirt and all.

“Wow,” he says, as he rakes his eyes over Chanyeol’s body and Chanyeol feels… naked, somehow, even though he’s definitely wearing clothes. “I didn’t think you owned one…?”

“A hand-me-down from my dad,” Chanyeol admits, grinning sheepishly as he scratches the back of his neck and adjusts the collar of his shirt and blazer. “Used only in times of dire need.” He explains. “Like weddings. And funerals.”

“A suit for all joyous occasions, then,” Jongdae teases, smirking, and pockets his phone into his back pocket as he dangles his car keys out. “Shall we?”

By pick up, Chanyeol had of course meant catching the train to Jongdae’s apartment and then Jongdae driving there, because Jongdae can actually drive  _and_ afford a car, unlike Chanyeol, but Jongdae knows him well enough to expect that, anyway. They bicker over the aux cord before Jongdae plays the _my car, my rules_ card, and Chanyeol huffs before settling into the passenger's seat, folding his arms across his chest childishly.

Despite Jongdae being all soft grunge his music taste is just soft, but at least that seems to suit him, today, piercings gone with only their holes left over, the single sole survivor being the acrylic batman stud in his tongue --which Chanyeol had only noticed because Jongdae had stuck out said tongue triumphantly after winning over the aux cord. The music isn’t bad though, bittersweet and mellow, and Chanyeol finds it suits the quiet atmosphere well enough as he gives out directions from his phone between turning the data on and off again, too broke to risk going over the 1GB limit.

“Take a left and we’re there,” Chanyeol mumbles, and Jongdae hums in acknowledgement before going back to singing along with the song, his voice rough and a little flat but oddly nice all the same. Something feels different in the air between them, but in no way is it a bad sort of different, it seems to be… softer, somehow, more comfortable. Just like Jongdae’s music.

Then again, considering they’ve had sex two times now… yeah, sounds about right. Nothing boosts a friendship more than getting each other off, Chanyeol supposes, and maybe there’s just some level of trust between them that’s been attained, like the final boss level, complete with the heart-filling container and everything.

“Cheery,” Jongdae comments, looking at the funeral house with people dressed in all black walking up to it. Chanyeol snorts despite himself.

“It’s a wake, Jongdae,” he says. “What were you expecting?”

“Shouldn’t we be ‘celebrating’ your mother’s friend’s sister’s life or something, not--” he gestures vaguely to the clearly sour mood at the foot of the place. Chanyeol shrugs noncommittally. “Why is it called a wake, anyway. Like, if dead people are gonna be waking up I don’t really wanna be around for that.”

Chanyeol laughs despite himself, and Jongdae grins, pleased.

“Less complaining,” Chanyeol says, even though such a concept is foreign to Jongdae. “More celebrating dead people.”

“Dead people’s lives _,_ Chanyeol,” Jongdae corrects. “Dead people’s _lives_.”

Chanyeol feels maybe a little too happy as he walks up to the entrance of the funeral parlour with Jongdae by his side, but it quickly falls in the melancholy atmosphere. Chanyeol’s always been someone who synchronises with the majority mood, and that applies here too, even as Jongdae squeezes his elbow reassuringly.

“Chanyeol,” says a familiar voice, and Chanyeol lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, willing for it to just be over and done with. Jongdae’s hand squeezes just that bit tighter. “You brought a guest…?”

“This is Jongdae,” Chanyeol introduces as his mother purses her lips, having found them immediately with her freaky sixth sense, or whatever, Jongdae smiling accordingly. “A friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jongdae says warmly, and shakes Chanyeol’s mother’s hand with a sort of smooth, charm about him that Chanyeol’s never seen before. It makes sense, maybe, because even beneath the flannel and piercings Jongdae’s just some friendly upperclass rich kid, probably used to wearing suits and fraternising with people he doesn’t care about, and it shows, because Jongdae fills out the lines of his all-black suit perfectly, like he’d been born wearing it, yet Chanyeol’s stands in his father’s and it’s two-sizes too big, never being enough to fill up the empty space entirely. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she says, and Chanyeol can tell she likes Jongdae, maybe even a lot more than she likes Chanyeol, these days. Then again, his mother is probably more fond of a pot plant, as of late, because at least a pot plant does what it had been born to do, or whatever.

“Soooo,” Jongdae says, as Chanyeol’s mother excuses herself to greet other people and gives Chanyeol a look that he knows well enough to interpret as _later_. “Mom issues, huh?”

“More like Chanyeol issues,” Chanyeol jokes, and smiles lopsidedly while reaching across the packed room for two finger sandwiches, passing one to Jongdae. “Parental disappointment, you know how it goes.”

Jongdae huffs. “Boy do I.” He mumbles, shoving a finger sandwich into his mouth and licking the tip of his index finger on the way out. Chanyeol definitely doesn’t stare.

The rest of the funeral passes as cheerily as expected, but mostly Chanyeol and Jongdae just stay silent throughout the entire procession and burial, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. Chanyeol hadn’t really known the person who’d died, so he feels kind of bad for not caring, but he sort of enjoys the bitter atmosphere in the scheme of things, the sniffling and sobbing ahead of him as they play _Moonlight Sonata_ and show a bunch of old photos. At the end of the day it’s just another excuse for his mother to keep her tabs on him through good old guilt tripping, but the pill doesn’t swallow as bitterly as usual, no thanks to Jongdae’s hand on his elbow, squeezing every now and then.

They drive to some house in the suburbs afterwards, and Jongdae reaches for two champagnes before Chanyeol can even open his mouth.

“You’re gonna need that,” he mumbles, and Chanyeol all but agrees as he sees his mother and sister walking towards him across the living room floor, sculling the entire flute down in one breath and wordlessly gesturing for another, Jongdae laughing quietly as he obliges, handing over another.

“So,” Yura says, as Chanyeol hides his face behind his drink. “You must be Jongdae?”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles easily, shaking Yura’s hand. “I can definitely tell who inherited all the good looks in the family.”

Yura and Chanyeol’s mother laugh pleasantly, and Chanyeol just elbows Jongdae in the side, unable to help but smile at the way Jongdae grins at him, unrepentant.

Jongdae and Yura launch into a conversation about Yura’s PhD and her fiance, and it creates enough of an exit for Chanyeol every time a distant family member or friend he hasn’t seen since he was six asks him how he’s been, what he’s doing with his life, wishing him luck for the _future_  because what he's doing now just isn't good enough, apparently. Chanyeol’s mother is all but too happy to fill in for him, talking about him working at a music store while he explores his options, and most of the people seem happy for him, wishing him luck in his endeavours, but it does nothing to ease the wrinkles at the corners of his mother’s eyes.

By the time the afternoon is finally, finally over, Chanyeol’s mother purses her lips, and says, “You should come to see me more often, Chanyeollie.” And a crease appears between her eyebrows. “I’m worried about you.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says, but makes no promises or apologies as he quickly tugs Jongdae towards him, knowing an exit when he sees one. Chanyeol's mother is always worried about him, because Chanyeol's life is a mess, by her definitions. Still, Chanyeol think it would be better if she kind of forgot about having a son altogether, just to ease the creases in her forehead.

“Leaving already?” Yura says, surprised at the sight of them suddenly leaving, and bites her lip, sighing. “Bring Jongdae with you more often!”

“It was nice meeting you!” Jongdae calls even as Chanyeol pulls him out the door, finally feeling like he can breathe again. Eventually, Jongdae says, “Well, she was nice.”

Chanyeol laughs. “To you, maybe.”

“Aw c’mon Yeollie,” Jongdae teases, digging his elbow into Chanyeol’s side. “I’m pretty sure being nice runs in your blood.”

“Ha,” Chanyeol laughs drily, but doesn’t necessarily agree.

“Might’ve skipped a generation at your mom though,” Jongdae comments offhandedly, and peers at Chanyeol sideways, arching an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Pushy, overbearing, only-wants-what’s-best-for-her-boy?”

Chanyeol huffs. “Something like that.” He doesn’t really want to talk about it. Or think about it. Or even touch it with a 3904824 foot long pole.

Jongdae hums. “Ah dude, don’t sweat it,” Jongdae tugs at his cuffs, adjusting them slightly. “Parents either come around or get left behind, and she loves you too much to eat dirt.” He smiles, reassuringly, and it’s like something in Chanyeol just instinctively smiles back, eager to match Jongdae’s expression. 

Jongdae lets Chanyeol have the aux cord and doesn’t ask for directions on the way back, easily following the roads they'd come in on back to his apartment. Jongdae rolls his eyes at Chanyeol’s selection of old school rock but doesn’t comment beyond that, so Chanyeol equally holds back his tongue about _Jongdae_ being the soft grunge enthusiast between them, not matching up to his own appearance.

By the time they get back to Jongdae’s apartment building, Jongdae winds his hand around Chanyeol’s wrist across the console and says, “Stay?” Chanyeol blinks at him, distracted by the way Jongdae’s skin burns all the way to his bone. “Just for tonight.” He bites his lip. “I have beer?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol answers lamely, because in the face of Jongdae looking at him like... that, he can’t remember how to say no.

Jongdae pulls a 6-pack from the fridge and shoos Chanyeol out to the balcony, where the summer air is cool but not smothering at this time of night. All of downtown is bright and glowing and hustling with life and music, and Chanyeol just closes his eyes as he braces his arms on the railing and wishes that he could pause everything, just for one moment, just to catch his breath.

“Never have I ever,” Jongdae starts. “Sucked a dick.”

Chanyeol gives him a look, which Jongdae smirks at, and then Chanyeol rolls his eyes before twisting the lid off his beer and sipping. Jongdae gasps in mock-shock.

“I can’t believe you’ve sucked dick dude!” He cries out, and Chanyeol elbows him sharply, growling as Jongdae just cackles far too loud in the quiet night air, near-silent from this high up. “Unbelievable.”

“I am _not_ playing this right now,” Chanyeol mumbles into the neck of his beer, taking another sip. He used to hate beer, back in the day, but being friends with Baekhyun and Jongdae made him learn to like it --forced him to. “We know enough about each other as is.”

“Aw c’mon Yeollie,” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol doesn’t know where the nickname had suddenly come from, but he doesn’t exactly mind it, either. “We’ve always been friends but we’ve never been _friends_ , y’know?” At Chanyeol’s confused face, Jongdae laughs. “I mean, I didn’t know you had a judge-y mom and a hot sister, so maybe we need to start over from square one.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Chanyeol groans. “Please don’t tell me you just called my sister hot.”

“Sorry bro,” Jongdae says without really being sorry at all, clicking his tongue and lightly punching Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Guess it runs in your family too.”

Chanyeol arches an eyebrow. “So my mom’s hot too, huh?”

Jongdae chokes on his beer mid-sip at that, and Chanyeol laughs, even if it comes at the expense of his mother’s dignity and his own.

“Skipped a generation,” Jongdae mutters, as he wipes the beer off the bottom of his chin. Chanyeol just laughs all over again.

“So what are your parents like, then?” Chanyeol asks, after a moment of too much silence for two too loud boys. It had struck kind of quickly, but Jongdae had been right, when he’d said that he and Chanyeol have been friends but never really _friends_. Chanyeol knows nothing about Jongdae beyond that he’s a rich kid --which Baekhyun had told him-- that he’d used to live in town but moved when he was young and then came back --which Baekhyun had also told him-- and that he probably has an oral fixation.

That last one Chanyeol worked out on his own.

Jongdae and Chanyeol know each other but they don’t _know_ each other, merely exist in the same galaxy and occasionally pass by in their orbits. It’s different now, somehow, with a newfound closeness in their strange, respective miseries, but Chanyeol kind of likes it, the sensation of finding something new in a place he’d never thought to look in before. This higher level of friendship with Jongdae brings with it the filling of a space Chanyeol hadn’t known had needed to be filled, but maybe he and Jongdae have too many similarities in common for it to be anyone else, despite all their differences.

“My parents are…” Jongdae stares into the distance, tilting his head. “Kind of like your mom is, but… but different.” He winces, struggling to find the words as he fiddles with a bottle cap between his fingers. “They have some… big plan written, but I’m not really cut-out to be the main character, you know?” Chanyeol nods, and continues listening attentively, making sure to catch every single word. “I dunno. They’re not disappointed in me because I don’t know what I’m doing, like your mom is, they’re just disappointed in me because I’m not doing what _they_ want me to be.”

Chanyeol _huh_ ’s at that, and stares out into the skyline, frowning in thought. “Maybe it’s better to be directionless, then,” he says, tracing the mouth of his beer bottle. “Instead of only being given one path.”

“Maybe,” Jongdae comments quietly, taking another sip.

“At least you’ve broken out of that, though, right?” Chanyeol asks, and Jongdae smiles at him weakly --but doesn’t exactly agree.

Silence passes after that, and the atmosphere thickens as they drink from their respective beers, the 6-pack finished before Chanyeol can even notice it’s gone. They stay in silence even as they just drink, and it’s weird, but not uncomfortable, Chanyeol not thinking or doing much of anything other than focusing on the cars below him in the street and the feel of Jongdae’s elbow against his own.

He’s snapped out of it by the scent of smoke, though, turning and arching an eyebrow. “I thought you quit.” He says, and Jongdae snorts.

“I did,” he says. “I think.” He frowns at the cigarette in his hand. “I dunno man I don’t even know where this came from.” He purses his lips. “I’m tired and stressed; just let me have this.”

Chanyeol laughs, right into the last beer. “You’re drunk.” He says.

“Maybe,” Jongdae slurs in return, and Chanyeol mumbles  _lightweight_ before draining the last of the bottle. “Not everyone can be six foot and--”

“Six foot one,” Chanyeol corrects.

“--Six foot _one_ ,” Jongdae says, rolling his eyes. “And metabolically superior.”

“Meta… whata?” Chanyeol asks, but Jongdae chooses to ignore him instead, looking at his cigarette thoughtfully as he takes a long drag.

“Hey, dude,” Jongdae starts, blinking at the stick in his hand. “Have you ever tried shotgunning?”

“Shot… whatting?” Chanyeol asks, and okay, so maybe he’s a _little_ drunk too, but not too badly. Mostly he’s just confused by the sudden nonsequitur that drunk Jongdae has always had a habit of bouncing around, never focusing on one thing for too long.

“Y’know,” Jongdae explains, and makes a vague gesture between their bodies which Chanyeol doesn’t get in the slightest. Jongdae just sighs, and says, “Say Ah.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Chanyeol says, in realisation, working out what Jongdae wants to try.

“No no no no,” Jongdae reiterates. “‘ _Ah’_.”

Chanyeol laughs, but opens his mouth regardless, watching as Jongdae inhales a deep breath from his cigarette and then wraps his hand around the back of Chanyeol’s neck, tugging him down and pressing their lips together, but not in a kiss. Jongdae exhales directly into Chanyeol’s mouth, and Chanyeol can’t keep his eyes off of Jongdae as he does, the smoke curling between their mouths and dissipating into darkness, the half-shut position of Jongdae’s brown eyes.

And then, Chanyeol’s mouth is filled with cigarette smoke, and this is suddenly a lot less interesting as he pulls back, coughing. His eyes sting, and the subpar taste of beer mixed with tobacco isn’t exactly pleasant, hacking his lungs out into his own hand.

“Maybe not then,” Jongdae comments wryly, and giggles, stubbing his cigarette out on the railing.

“What’s even the point of that when it’s not weed?” Chanyeol asks, still coughing, and Jongdae shrugs unrepentantly, leaning back on the railing.

“Dunno, guess there isn’t one,” he tilts his head sideways, almost appraising. “Kinda hot to see you open your mouth for me like that though, doing whatever I say.”

Chanyeol swallows at that, and it’s hard to breathe, suddenly, but not from the cigarette smoke in his chest. Chanyeol licks his lips subconsciously, and Jongdae just laughs freely, tilting his head back and showing the deep curve of his Adam’s apple. Chanyeol wants to trace the line of it with his tongue, and he's far too intoxicated to care about the fact that he does, and how that's maybe a little bit gay.

“No brojobs tonight, my dude,” Jongdae slurs easily. “We’re a little too drunk for that.”

“I know,” Chanyeol answers, and wraps his arms around Jongdae, humming, looking down at the taken aback expression on his face. “Later, maybe.”

Jongdae searches Chanyeol's face with an ounce of sobriety he shouldn’t possess, and as quickly as it had come it disappears, leaving Chanyeol’s tipsy mind foggy in its confusion. Chanyeol’s mind always feels foggy around Jongdae though, like the cigarette smoke that had curled from his lips. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, though --Chanyeol likes the way Jongdae makes it seem like everything has stopped, letting Chanyeol just not think for just a little while. It’s different from the mist he usually finds himself in, more comforting, somehow, easier to see through.

“Want the couch or the bed?” Jongdae slurs out, and Chanyeol breaks away, collecting the beer bottles off the floor and stretching.

“We’ve sucked each other’s dicks,” Chanyeol says, ears turning red at his own words. “I’m sure we can handle a little bro on bro spooning?”

“Nothing says friendship like platonic cuddles,” Jongdae decides, and Chanyeol laughs easily as he comes back in from the balcony, leaving the bottles in the recycling bin. If Jongdae’s looking at Chanyeol strangely, Chanyeol doesn’t see it, too busy heading towards the bedroom to notice the way Jongdae’s watching him, almost as if Chanyeol’s edges have been blurred by smoke.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol’s late to work through a combination of sleeping too late, giving Jongdae mind blowing head as a thank you for the previous day, and the run required from Jongdae’s apartment to Chanyeol’s, switching into clean clothes that don’t smell like cigarette smoke or isn’t a suit.

But Junmyeon doesn’t seem to mind too much, probably because Chanyeol will get thirty minutes less of time-and-a-half from Sunday rates, smiling at him as he walks in rather than threatening his life.

“You seem… chipper,” Seulgi says, after servicing a customer’s clarinet and leaving it in the done shelf. “More rendezvous with mysterious hickey giver?”

Chanyeol laughs nervously, and rubs at his neck self-consciously, eighty-five percent sure Jongdae hadn’t left anything there this morning after Chanyeol had specifically told him not to. (Then again, Jongdae’s an unrepentant asshole and Chanyeol hadn’t had a chance to check, so.)

“Something like that,” he answers cryptically, smiling, and excuses himself silently to deal with a confused looking customer by the piano books, helping with what they’re looking for. Sunday shifts are usually pretty quiet as far as quiet goes with Junmyeon’s store --in which quiet is the bare minimum for activity, with completely dead being the maximum-- but Chanyeol manages to pass the time well enough between helping fourteen year olds pick out their flutes for marching band and parents trying to figure out which strength reeds their kids need without actually knowing.

“Seulgi was right,” Junmyeon says, later, as Chanyeol’s fixing the strings on some customer’s poorly taken care of guitar. It will need a polish, probably, and the nuts will need adjusting too beyond the looseness of the strings. Chanyeol frowns; some people just don’t know how to take care of good things in their life. “You do seem... happier.”  

“Because I was such a ball of misery before, huh?” Chanyeol jokes, grinning, and Junmyeon smiles easily, laughing through his nose.

“Only when you thought no one was looking,” he mutters, and leaves Chanyeol gulping in his wake as he answers the front door’s bell tingling, signalling the entrance of a customer.

“I’m here for my guitar,” a familiar voice says, and when Chanyeol pokes his head out curiously it’s fucking Sunyoung, eyes widening as he whips back around the corner and breaths shortening, pressing himself up against the wall unnecessarily so. He feels awkward somehow, out of place, but it doesn’t even make sense, really, because he and Jongdae _aren’t_ dating, and… and Sunyoung doesn’t even know that they’re… doing what they’re doing, has no way of knowing, so all-in-all Chanyeol’s pretty sure he’s just having a semi-panic attack over nothing, right about now.

“Chanyeol can you get…” Junmyeon pauses at the doorway, looking at the way Chanyeol’s pressed up against the wall. “... What are you doing?”

“... Admiring the paint job?” Chanyeol offers, and Junmyeon just pinches the bridge of his nose as he hands over the customer’s receipt for the guitar. Chanyeol sighs before searching for the tag, and remembers servicing this one last week, one of the nicest guitars Chanyeol’s ever seen in a long time, barely needing much more than some nut adjustment and a bit of string tightening.

“Oh,” Sunyoung says, when Chanyeol sheepishly brings out her guitar. “Hi Chanyeol, how are you?”

“I’m good,” Chanyeol answers semi-awkwardly, handing over the instrument case. “It’s a um. Nice guitar you’ve got. You’ve taken good care of it.”

“I’m very fond of it,” Sunyoung says, smiling, and Chanyeol finds himself matching her pretty, pretty grin, unable to help himself.

“I didn’t know you could play,” he admits, and Sunyoung laughs sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not very good,” she replies, patting the top of the case nostalgically. “But I’m trying to relearn.”

“That’s good then,” Chanyeol says, still smiling as he rings up the bill. “It’s always nice to rediscover old passions.”

“Yeah,” Sunyoung agrees. “It is.” She bites her lip then, even as she taps her card through the eftpos machine, and opens her mouth once, before closing it, opening it again. “How’s Jongdae?” She asks, and Chanyeol blinks at her, heart pounding in his ears. “I mean I-- You two were friends, last time I checked.”

She smiles sheepishly, and Chanyeol laughs, just to help ease her nerves. “We’re still friends,” he says, and slides the receipt across the counter. “And he’s… he’s good, I think.” Chanyeol frowns slightly, but Sunyoung doesn’t seem to catch it. “He’s.... happy.” Chanyeol decides. “Doesn’t seem like the break-up was too bad.”

“It wasn’t,” Sunyoung agrees, and smiles. “But I’m glad.” She bites her lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and shuffles her guitar between hands. “It will probably take a while for us to be able to be friends again, but it’s good that he has people like you and Baekhyun to help him. Jongdae’s not very good at being alone.” She smiles again, and something in her eyes soften. “Take care of him, Chanyeol. Jongdae’s not good at doing it himself.”

“Uh… yeah,” Chanyeol blurts out lamely, as Sunyoung waves and exits the shop with her guitar in tow. “...Bye?”

“So… you know her?” Junmyeon asks, arms folded as he leans against the doorway to the back room with an arched eyebrow.

“Friend of a friend,” Chanyeol lies, unsure to which friend is the lie and frowning momentarily at the thought.

“Who’s Jongdae?” Junmyeon asks, and chuckles at the look on Chanyeol’s face. “Sounded like you’d adopted her cat, or something.”

Despite himself, Chanyeol thinks of the curl at the corners of Jongdae’s lips and the tilt of his eyes.

“You’re… not… wrong…” he says, brow furrowing, and Junmyeon just laughs further, Chanyeol still confused. Except Jongdae’s not a cat, and Chanyeol’s not adopting him, and at the end of the day they’re still just friends. Sunyoung’s the whole reason Jongdae and Chanyeol ended up…. helping each other out, either way, so Chanyeol kind of feels weird about the whole thing to begin with, unable to sort out the way it crumbles through his head in tiny pieces, rather than the whole picture.

“Well, just make sure to feed it,” Junmyeon jokes, and Chanyeol laughs even with the knot in his chest, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. “Why don’t you clock off early, Chanyeol? I’ll close up this time.”

Chanyeol blinks, startled, and checks the clock. “But my shift doesn’t end for another hour.”

“I’ll pay you anyway,” Junmyeon says, shrugging, and it’s times like these Chanyeol remembers that he kind of is the nicest fucking person, right beneath all the snark that hides beneath his _fake_ nicest fucking person exterior. “I’m sure you’ve worked enough overtime to earn it, and it’s not like we’re busy.” He gestures to the empty store, smiling. “You look like you could use some free time. Maybe look after that cat of yours.”

“If you insist,” Chanyeol says easily, grinning, and Seulgi mutters _lucky_ beneath her breath as he grabs his bag from the back room. “Thanks, Junmyeon!”

“No problem,” Junmyeon replies, smiling fondly, but Chanyeol only catches the glimpse of it as he bolts out the door, skating home early for the night with thoughts of Sunyoung's guitar and Jongdae playing on loop in the back of his head.

 

 

✪

 

Chanyeol hums as he slips his keys into the door, one of the songs Jongdae had played in the car, the other day, his headphones having dropped out in one ear a few weeks ago and Chanyeol being too broke to afford a new pair. Chanyeol grins to himself as he gets the rusty lock to open, and his humming turns to a whistle as he swings the door wide open only to find Baekhyun on the couch.

As in Baekhyun, _shirtless_ , making out with someone on the couch.

Baekhyun, shirtless, making out with a _dude_ on the couch.

“Um,” Chanyeol blurts, startling Baekhyun enough to have him pulling back suddenly, wide-eyed as he holds a pillow against his chest and just. Stares.

“C-Chanyeol,” Baekhyun stammers, looking terrified. “You’re-- You're home early.”

“Yeah uh… Junmyeon let me go home...” he trails off slowly, brow scrunching as he just carefully takes in the fact that Baekhyun had been kissing another dude. _Baekhyun_. The guy that crushed on Taeyeon for so long Chanyeol was pretty sure he’d never recover.

Chanyeol flicks his eyes to the sight of the other very shirtless guy that Baekhyun had been kissing, and says, “So… this seems kinda gay?” Gesturing to Baekhyun and the other dude on the couch.

Baekhyun licks his lips, and the boy he’d been _kissing_ just looks like a deer caught in headlights, brown eyes impossibly wide beneath short, cropped dark hair.

“Uh,” Baekhyun says, and fumbles on the ground for his shirt, awkwardly holding it over his chest as if Chanyeol has never seen him naked before. “I’m… kinda gay?”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “ _Oh_.” He clears his throat. “Uh. How long’s that been going on?”

“Since… birth, I guess?” Baekhyun offers, shrugging slowly.

“Huh,” Chanyeol manages. “Neat.”

Baekhyun stares. “You’re not… you’re not bothered?” He asks, furrowing his brow.

“Um, no?” Chanyeol says, frowning. “Why would I be?”

“Uh,” Baekhyun starts. “Because you once bumped me in the hallway and then said ‘no homo’ straight after...?”

“Maybe I should go,” starts the boy who Baekhyun had been on top of, awkwardly pulling his shirt back on. “I-- I need to get to work anyway.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, and their hands squeeze together, Baekhyun’s face softening in a way Chanyeol’s never seen it do before, the boy leaving wordlessly as he and Chanyeol exchange a semi-awkward nod and Baekhyun just fidgets on the couch, biting his lip.

“ _Soooo_ ,” Chanyeol starts, swinging his arms and clapping them in front of him, behind.

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun blurts, and then falters. “I mean that’s-- my boyfriend.”

“Cool,” Chanyeol says, lamely, and puffs out his cheeks, at a loss for what to say. “Can’t believe that’s the dude that made you wear jeans without holes in them.”

Baekhyun grumbles something unintelligible at that, and Chanyeol just laughs, going to his room and changing shorts, checking his phone and seeing Jongdae’s answering text of _sure_. towards Chanyeol’s question he’d sent earlier. Chanyeol grins.

“And you’re… sure you’re not weirded out?” Baekhyun asks tentatively, leaning in the doorway and frowning. Chanyeol just smiles reassuringly at him, shaking his head as he sniffs a shirt, deeming it clean enough, and shoves it into his backpack.

“‘Course not,” he says, pulling on a singlet with _LIVE FAST DIE YOUNG_ scrawled across it, zipping up his hoodie halfway. “I’m glad you're happy, bro.”

“Uh. Right.” Baekhyun says, returning the fistbump Chanyeol offers with a stunned look on his face. “I’m-- I’m glad that you’re glad then. Uh. Bro.”

“I gotta go though,” Chanyeol says, shouldering his backpack and tucking his board under his arm. “Promised Jongdae I’d hang out with him at the park.”

“It’s… late…” Baekhyun says, but knows it’s a futile effort when it comes to Chanyeol, frowning. “You and Jongdae have been hanging out a lot together, recently…”

It doesn’t sound accusatory, but there’s something else in it as Baekhyun watches Chanyeol, searching for a breaking point. Chanyeol doesn’t feel like giving in though, shrugging.

“What can I say, dude?” He says, grinning to cover up any cracks that might show if he’s not careful enough. “Us single losers gotta stick together.”

“Right,” Baekhyun mutters, mouth twisting.

“Aw, Baekhyunnie,” Chanyeol teases, poking Baekhyun’s side. “Don’t be jealous. You have Kyungsoo, remember?” He grins. “You should invite him back over, y’know I’ll probably just... sleep over at Jongdae’s.” Chanyeol licks his lips. “I mean-- you can come, if you want, but--”

“No it’s okay,” Baekhyun says, face oddly steely as he turns around. “Go have fun one-on-one,” he adds. “Wouldn’t want to third-wheel, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be--” Chanyeol tries, but Baekhyun’s already shut his bedroom door behind him, leaving the couch in a cushionless state. Sighing, Chanyeol hesitates outside Baekhyun’s door, but knows Baekhyun’s only worth arguing with after he’s cooled off --if this is even an argument to begin with, Chanyeol thinks, furrowing his brow.

Shaking it off, Chanyeol heads out; he doesn’t want to keep Jongdae waiting, anyway.

 

✪

 

“Did you know Baekhyun has a boyfriend?” Chanyeol asks, later, when he and Jongdae get back from the park and Jongdae’s dumping his board by the door, tilting his head.

“Kinda?” He says, and squints slightly, kicking off his sneakers. “He only really… hinted at it, and sorta stopped around the same time Sunyoung dumped my ass.” Jongdae smiles lopsidedly.

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae looks at him curiously. Chanyeol quickly licks his lips, and turns away, not feeling like mentioning Sunyoung and their weird cat-adopting-esque conversation, from earlier.

“Jealous?” Jongdae asks, and without Baekhyun around, in the quiet of Jongdae’s apartment, Chanyeol thinks… maybe. Maybe he’s jealous of Baekhyun finding a cute boyfriend who makes him wear jeans without holes in them, or maybe he’s just jealous of the fact that Baekhyun’s moving on with his life, meeting new people, forming new relationships, leaving Chanyeol to search through rubble. Their friendship always has been a little too clingy to be considered healthy, and clearly that’s kind of biting Chanyeol in the ass, right around now, because he hates the fact that Baekhyun's moving on and hates the fact that he hates it. 

“Nah,” Chanyeol lies, and flops down onto the couch, snuggling into the overpriced leather that his penniless wallet has wet dreams about. “Just… surprised.”

Jongdae hums, and sits himself next to Chanyeol, pulling his knees to his chest and switching on the television, wriggling his toes.

“Feel like getting off tonight?” He asks, snuggling into Chanyeol’s shoulder. Chanyeol shrugs, and Jongdae frowns as he rubs at the side of his head where Chanyeol had dug his shoulder into it accidentally. Jongdae’s always been a touchy-feely person, but he’d never really been touchy-feely with Chanyeol, before now, so this is... nice, somehow, just sitting side-by-side.

“Sure,” Chanyeol relents. “Some good ol’ fashioned brojobs?” Jongdae grins at him, reaching a hand through the side-holes of Chanyeol’s singlet --the really big ones, that go all the way from his shoulder to his hip-- and pinching his nipple, causing him to cry out.

“Love these shirts,” he says, lifting up the baggy singlet and kissing over the exact same spot he’d just pinched, Chanyeol hissing through his teeth. “Such easy access.”

“ _Jongdae,_ ” Chanyeol whines, already squirming, and Jongdae just grins, pressing his tongue to Chanyeol’s neck as he straddles him, moving downwards and rolling his hips forward.

“Brojobs work,” he mumbles, and something in his eyes is so impossibly dark it feels like Chanyeol can’t even make out the edges of them. “But I’ve got other plans.”

Jongdae’s smirk is as teasing as much as it is a promise of what's yet to come, and it sends shivers racing down Chanyeol’s spine, right to the end of his toes.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol, by default, hates being the big spoon, and no thanks to his height he is also, by default, the big spoon, ninety-nine percent of the time.

But he doesn’t mind it so much with Jongdae, because Jongdae’s got this way of fitting into Chanyeol’s side perfectly, like he’d always meant to be there, cooing softly in his sleep. It’s super cute, really, because Jongdae’s whole face twitches, and he makes these little noises, and it reminds Chanyeol perfectly of a cat, causing him to smile as he brushes the hair out of Jongdae’s eyes.

“Hey, Yeol,” Jongdae starts later, carefully, as he’s frying some eggs in the skillet and Chanyeol can only stare because such culinary abilities are beyond his comprehension. (If it doesn’t utilise a microwave or a toaster, he’s completely lost.) “I’m not…" Jongdae bites his cheek. "I’m not like, a replacement for Baekhyun or something, right?”

Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows, and says, “What?” because Jongdae and Baekhyun barely even exist in the same filing cabinet for Chanyeol, even if they are best friends. So maybe he’s a little jealous that Baekhyun’s moving on, or whatever, that doesn’t mean he’s using Jongdae… like _that_. The idea is actually kind of insulting, in hindsight. “Of course not, dude.” Chanyeol reassures, but Jongdae doesn’t seem too convinced, mouth twisted. “Am I a replacement for Sunyoung?”

“ _What_?” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol raises his eyebrows. “How could you even-- oh. You’re making your point.”

Chanyeol grins. “You and I are just…”

“...Two lonely miserable fucks helping each other fill the void with platonic sex?” Jongdae offers.

“I guess,” Chanyeol says, laughing even as Jongdae puts toast, eggs and bacon onto his plate, truly a gourmet experience. “Just helpin’ a bro out.” He smirks. “Wouldn’t exactly bring you home to the in-laws.”

“That’s not very bromantic of you, Yeollie,” Jongdae says, pouting, and Chanyeol chokes on his eggs mid-snort. “And I’ve already _met_ the in-laws, ass.”

“And may you never meet again,” he grunts, taking another huge mouthful as Jongdae just rolls his eyes and kicks him underneath the table, quickly dissolving into a game of footsie with Jongdae complaining about Chanyeol’s unfair long-limbed advantage.

“Really, though,” Jongdae says quietly, later, gripping onto Chanyeol’s sleeve as he’s halfway out the door, blinking down at him. “You sure you’re not just… around… because….”

Chanyeol quickly shakes his head, and Jongdae lets his hand fall, biting his cheek. Chanyeol’s never seen Jongdae like this before -- _vulnerable_ \-- and it makes him curious to see what he’s hiding, beneath all the layers of flannel and band shirts and piercings, curious to see the soft, squishy middle that likes listening to mellow songs on acoustic guitars and smiles like he’s the sun and all the light has gone out.

“Nah,” Chanyeol says, and punches Jongdae’s shoulder teasingly. “I just like being around you.” He admits, honestly, and Jongdae looks up at him, blinking. “You…” don’t expect things from Chanyeol, don’t look at him as if he’s already given up, don’t want him to be anything more than what he already is. Jongdae doesn’t look at Chanyeol like they’re two ships passing in the night, but more like they’re waiting by the edge of the road together, watching the cars go by as they sit thigh-to-thigh. “... I dunno. You just make it easy to think.” After a moment, Chanyeol adds, “No homo though.”

Jongdae grins, all-teeth. “Now _that’s_ bromantic,” he says, and it’s strange that now that Chanyeol can see it, he can’t stop noticing it, the way Jongdae puts this shell around himself like a hard-boiled candy, protecting the sweeter inside. Chanyeol’s never been too good with rock-candies --they always hurt his teeth whenever he bites. “Go to work dude, and I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Chanyeol stumbles out the door as Jongdae pushes him, and smiles. “Yeah.” He replies, and can’t wipe the grin off his face the entire way to Junmyeon’s store --couldn’t do it even if he wanted to.

 

 

✪

 

 

Most days in Chanyeol’s life have always passed the same way --working, more working, skating and more skating, and then pretending like he doesn’t feel like he’s living in a time loop. The only difference these days is that Jongdae gets thrown into the mix, and Chanyeol finds himself staying over at Jongdae’s more than he sleeps in his own goddamn apartment, time filled up by the fact that for the first time in his life he has a regularly active sex-life.

He keeps expecting Jongdae to get sick of how much time they spend together, but it never happens. Being with Jongdae feels relaxing and easy in a way that Chanyeol’s never experienced before, and it’s nice, somehow, to have a friend just like him for who he is, no expectations of getting a ‘real career’ or wearing jeans without holes in them or looking at him with the same thread of tension that Baekhyun does. Jongdae is just Jongdae, and he’s friends with Chanyeol because he’s Chanyeol, and it’s just nice, somehow, that Jongdae can make everything slow down just that little bit more.

Besides, anytime Chanyeol _does_ go home --mostly for a change of clothes, or to split the bill-- Baekhyun’s door is always shut with a snapback on the handle (they don’t own ties) and Sehun’s always consumed in the dark void of his bedroom-slash-Satan-worshipping room. Sunyoung had said that Jongdae doesn’t deal well with being alone, and Chanyeol thinks that he doesn’t really, either --maybe that’s why they get along so well. 

Chanyeol frowns, and scratches a note down onto the lined paper. It’s a tune that’s been stuck in his head for a while now, but Chanyeol can’t compose at home since Sehun always complains about noise and Baekhyun’s moaning isn’t particularly inspiring ambience, so he usually saves it for days when he can worm the spare keys out of Junmyeon and close up. The store closes at six, but Chanyeol often finds himself there until seven or eight, abusing the privileges of the grand piano and the acoustics of the teaching rooms. This song’s been stuck in his head for a while now, and usually Chanyeol lets them go, but for once, he just can’t quite do it, switching between the piano and his guitar to find the right notes.

“That’s really good,” a voice says, and Chanyeol jumps so hard his guitar nearly falls from his hands, notebook and pen cluttering to the ground as he breathes harshly at the man standing in the doorway. He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, are you closed?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says, although it _is_ 5:55. Junmyeon would probably have an aneurysm if Chanyeol closed up early, but he hadn’t really been expecting any customers to come in this late --he must have missed the bell jingling over the sound of his own guitar playing. “Sorry I was just--”

“Composing?” The man offers, and bends down to pick up the notebook Chanyeol had dropped, looking over the notes carefully. “It sounded good. Are you a musician?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “Nah,” he says, slinging the guitar off his shoulder. “Just a guy that plays instruments.”

“I think you’ll find that that’s the definition of a musician,” the man comments, smiling wryly, and Chanyeol just shrugs awkwardly, fidgeting in the silence. “I was looking for a new mouthpiece for my soprano saxophone, do you think you could help me?”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says, smiling, and leads them out of the classroom and back into the storefront, heading over to the mouthpiece section. “Metal or hard rubber?”

“Rubber,” the man answers, and Chanyeol diligently sorts through their available stock for any rubber mouthpieces, pulling out three boxes and holding them out in his palm. The customer doesn’t seem like the type of guy that’s going to need Chanyeol’s advice, so Chanyeol doesn’t offer it, just lets the man look over the specs on the box and frown in thought, causing a dimple to appear in the side of his cheek.

“I think this is what I’m looking for,” the man says, smiling, and Chanyeol takes the other two boxes and puts them back in the shelf, walking over to the counter to ring the one up. “Your song was good, you know. Have you ever published any?”

Chanyeol turns red at the sudden change of topic, but shakes his head. “I’m really not that good,” he says, laughing sheepishly. The man just continues smiling. “Just get things stuck in my head sometimes.”

“Ah, I get it,” the man hums, and hands over his card wordlessly as Chanyeol brings up the total of $245.95 on screen. “Those are always the best kind of songs.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees, and smiles softly, the man’s credit card reading _Yixing_.

“If you ever want to try composing for something,” Yixing says, and gently places a business card on the counter, Chanyeol blinking at it helplessly. “Give me a call.”

“I--” Chanyeol’s brain has short circuited. “ _What?_ ”

Yixing laughs. “I know talent when I see it, Chanyeol,” Chanyeol’s about to freak the fuck out before he realises that _duh_ , nametag. But also, _talent_ and _Chanyeol_ aren’t exactly two words he’s used to hearing in the same sentence, and it sends his mind reeling. “There’s an upcoming project and we need someone who knows their way around a guitar. Your song, from before,” Yixing hums. “I think it would suit it perfectly.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol fumbles. “That’s not…”

“I get it,” Yixing assures him, still smiling. “But just the style itself is exactly what we’ve been looking for." He hums. "Call me if you make a decision.”

Yixing takes the mouthpiece off the counter, and waves before exiting, leaving a very, _very_ stumped Chanyeol to close up the store afterwards, a tiny piece of white cardboard burning through his palm, unable to make sense of  _what the fuck just happened_?

 

 

✪

 

 

All his life, Chanyeol has only ever been looked at with disappointment.

Disappointment, because nothing he could do was ever enough. Disappointment, because all he cared about was skateboards and snapbacks and the most he ever accomplished was landing a job at Junmyeon’s store through sheer pity and self-taught music skills, getting paid just a little bit above minimum wage per hour to work part-time.

All his life, Chanyeol has never once been faced with anything but a brick wall, and now the bricks are crumbling, falling apart, and he doesn’t know what to do.

It’s not like working at Junmyeon’s store is the worst thing ever, but yeah, maybe it would be nice to work somewhere a little more solid, more varying, something that ensured he could actually pay his bills at the end of the month. But on the other hand, music is one of the only things Chanyeol has left; he doesn’t want to ruin it for himself, by draining the passion from it. It’s risky in every sense of the word, and as he stares at the business card even while skating down the street, he realises he’ll probably have to do a little more research into _Lay Studios_ , just to see what he’d be getting into.

Before he even registers what’s happening, Chanyeol’s outside Jongdae’s apartment, knocking, and when Jongdae opens the door he seems… flustered, somehow, surprised.

“Is this…” Chanyeol starts, taking in the sight of Jongdae in slacks and a button up, with no piercings. “Is this a bad time?”

Jongdae would know what to do, because Jongdae always knows what to do, because everything in Jongdae’s life exists in the shade of white of his shirt and the black of his batman stud. Jongdae’s clear headedness always rubs off on Chanyeol, helps the thoughts filter through, helps the smoke clear away, but maybe not tonight, because Chanyeol’s all confused again, at the way Jongdae looks over his shoulder and bites his lip.

“Now’s-- Now’s not great,” he admits, and smiles lopsidedly. “Maybe some other time?”

“Jongdae who’s-” a woman says, and then steps into the hallway, arching an eyebrow at Chanyeol. “Hello.” She says coolly, and Chanyeol would know the shape of those cheekbones in his sleep.

“Hi,” Chanyeol says, grinning, and knows that now is _so_ not the time to meet the in-laws, especially if Jongdae’s frazzled expression is anything to go by, the lack of piercings and the presence of formal wear. “I was just leaving.” Hidden in the space between their bodies, Chanyeol takes Jongdae’s pinky and squeezes, as reassuringly as it can possibly get. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Jongdae relents, and smiles thankfully before sighing, closing the door gently on Chanyeol. For not the first time in Chanyeol’s life, and certainly not the last, Chanyeol comes face to face with another wall. Only difference is, he doesn’t know whether to turn around, or just push through.

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol’s worried about Jongdae the whole trip home, but Baekhyun sneering, “Not staying over at Jongdae’s tonight?” with all acid doesn’t exactly help clear his thoughts once Chanyeol makes it through the front door and dumps his keys on the table, frowning.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” He asks, too tired and strung out for Baekhyun’s bullshit, right around now. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what it’s meant to mean, anyway, and it makes his blood boil. “Not fucking Kyungsoo tonight?” He tries, aiming for joking but coming out just a little too harsh to be a joke.

“No,” Baekhyun drawls, sardonic. “I prefer being fucked, anyway.”

Chanyeol gags. “TMI, dude.” But idly kind of realises it may just be something he and Baekhyun have in common.

(But Chanyeol’s not stupid, because the thing he and Jongdae has… it’s not really something anyone understands, and it’s not really noteworthy enough to bring up to begin with. They’re just friends that sleep together, and something in Chanyeol twists at the thought of this secret, private thing with Jongdae being brought to light.)

“Whatever,” Baekhyun says, and rolls his eyes. Chanyeol can tell that Baekhyun’s obviously tired, probably home from his long-ass Wednesday shift, but his accusatory tone doesn’t help Chanyeol’s mood, bubbling into anger.

“What’s your damage, dude?” Chanyeol asks, and furrows his brow. “You’re the one who’s too busy ‘getting fucked’ to hang out with us--”

“Because I’m actually invited, right?” Scoffs Baekhyun.

“Of _course_ you are,” Chanyeol says, frowning, because Baekhyun’s his best friend, and Jongdae’s, too. “Why wouldn't you be--”

“I’m too tired for this,” Baekhyun groans, scowling as he rubs at his eyes. “Whatever, Chanyeol. It doesn't matter.”

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol starts. “If it bothers you, then we need to talk about it, dude--”

“I’m just tired, okay?” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol can see the fight leave him, slumping his shoulders as Chanyeol feels his body relax too, by proxy. “It doesn't matter, so just forget it.”

“Baekhyun--” Chanyeol tries, but Baekhyun’s already shut his bedroom door, snapback hat falling off the handle to the ground uselessly.

 

 

✪

 

 

“Sorry about yesterday,” Jongdae says, as he opens the door, face still puffy from sleep and t-shirt hanging past his thighs. “My parents…”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says, and throws himself onto the kitchen counter stool, swinging side to side. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae sighs, nodding, and rubs his cheek, piercings still missing from each ear. “They’re just… kind of up my ass, recently, about what I’m doing with my life.” He grimaces. “Especially since Sunyoung and I broke up.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, and licks his lips. “I’m sorry man that-- that sucks.”

Jongdae shrugs. “Me working seems to be enough for them, for now,” he says, scratching at something invisible on the countertop and frowning. “But who cares.” He looks at Chanyeol, and smiles. “You okay? You seemed kinda frazzled last night too.”

“I care,” Chanyeol blurts, and before Jongdae can counter it with a sharp-tongued comment or a sly-smile, something from the arsenal of his outer-shell, Chanyeol says, “And I’m fine. I’m more worried about you, bro.”

No point in dumping his problems on Jongdae when Jongdae’s are evidently more important, anyway. Chanyeol can make a decision about Yixing’s offer in his own time, and he will… eventually. Soon.

Jongdae opens his mouth, faltering, and relents, slumping slightly. “They just…” he pulls a face. “They just want me to be more like my brother, want me to settle down with some ‘nice girl’, want me to give up skating, go back to school, et cetera et cetera” He sighs.

Chanyeol huffs. “I can relate.”

Jongdae runs a hand through his hair in frustration, grunting. “I don’t even know what I want to do with my life, and they’re convinced I should be halfway to completion already,” he sighs again, exhaling long and deep, and settles into the couch, Chanyeol moving until they’re sitting next to each other. “Can’t I just have a little more time to work things out?” He mumbles.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, and bumps their knees together. “It doesn’t matter how far you go, or how long it takes you to get there,” he continues, mildly aware that it’s maybe a little hypocritical, but whatever. “Just do what you want to, dude.” Chanyeol grins. “And in the wise words of one TSwizzle: the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, so just shake it off.”

Jongdae laughs, but only after punching Chanyeol, causing him to cry out in pain because Jongdae really knows how to land them where they hurt, _Jesus_.

Once Chanyeol’s done rubbing at the sore spot, Jongdae leans forward and kisses him, and it catches Chanyeol off-guard, somehow, because there’s no heat in it, no hunger. It’s not even open-mouthed, just soft, sweet, thankful and almost chaste in a way that defies the complete, unabashed entity that is Jongdae, licking his lips as he pulls back.

“Let’s go to the park,” he says, not giving a _no homo_ or anything and leaving Chanyeol stunned, tying a flannel over his waist and pulling a cap backwards across his head. Jongdae stretches his arms above his head lazily. “I feel like skating.”

“O-Okay,” Chanyeol says dumbly, and stands, pulling his board under his arm. Jongdae’s brushing it off like it’s nothing, but it’s strange, somehow, because within the simplicity of one, mere kiss, Chanyeol’s never managed to feel more confused in his life.

 

✪

 

Chanyeol doesn’t bring up Yixing to Jongdae the whole day, because in the face of Jongdae’s own misdirection, Chanyeol doesn’t feel like bringing his up too, bottling up and focusing on helping to distract Jongdae instead. Because that’s what their relationship comes down to, doesn’t it? Two friends distracting each other from all else because at the end of the day they’re just men by law but boys by every other standard, trapped in a body that’s three-sizes too big with expectations to match, unsure of how to handle the cars that flash past, unsure of how to cross to get to the other side without getting hit, having no hand to hold onto.

And maybe it was that simple, at one stage, but as Chanyeol skates back to his apartment… he isn’t so sure, anymore, because Jongdae had kissed him and suddenly, something had shifted, twisted, rearranged, and Chanyeol can no longer tell what picture the pieces make, how he's meant to put them together.

It’s another added complexity to put on top of the pile with all the others, but Chanyeol doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to think full stop, just wants to skate and work and occasionally help get Jongdae off and not have to worry about things, not have to worry about his friendship with Jongdae, his friendship with _Baekhyun_ , the fact that there’s a white business card that’s been burning holes in Chanyeol’s back pocket for the past week. The longer he puts everything off, the harder it becomes for Chanyeol to push through it, and the more it all seems to stack up, building an unbreakable wall right before his eyes.

He doesn’t know what to do, who to turn to, who could possibly help him. Chanyeol tried the wandering around asking for life advice phase of being stuck in a quicksand, but each time he’d moved he’d only sunk that much farther, and every piece of advice he’d found had contradicted each other, left him more confused and lost than he had been to begin with. There's just so much he could do with his life and he wants to do none of it; it feels like wandering in a fog blindly with no map or compass, and not even a single light to guide the way.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, as he kicks his shoes off, Baekhyun biting his lip by the dining table. (Which is, technically just a fold out table from an office supply store with a Lego block beneath one leg to keep it stable.) He looks nervous. “What’s up?”

“I--” Baekhyun stares at his marker covered hands. “I got in.”

Chanyeol furrows his brow. “Got in?” He parrots. “Where…?”

“SA,” Baekhyun mumbles, and Chanyeol’s eyes widen.

“You… You applied?” He says, and Baekhyun laughs, nodding. How could Chanyeol not have known? How could Baekhyun not have told him?

“I didn't think I’d actually…” Baekhyun laughs again, near-hysterical.

“ _Baekhyun_ ,” Chanyeol says, serious. “SA is a city over--”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun replies, and bites his lip, swallowing. “I’ll have to move out.”

It feels like being dunked in ice water, but there’s an edge of resignation to it, because of course Baekhyun’s moving out --it’s not like he and Chanyeol could live together forever. After all, that’s not how the real world works, and Baekhyun’s got his boyfriend, and his fancy art school, and his brand new student debt and his entire future ahead of him; why would Chanyeol bother holding him down when it’s so much easier to let him pass, just like everything else in his life.

“Right,” Chanyeol says, and tastes nothing but bitter bile and acid. “But I’m sure you and Kyungsoo will still be together, right? Because he’s actually worth keeping around.”

Baekhyun’s jaw clenches, and he turns to Chanyeol sharply. “What the hell is that meant to mean?” He asks, standing up. “Is it so goddamn hard for you to pull your head out of your own ass and be _happy_ for me?”

Chanyeol snorts. “Sure,” he sneers, and he doesn't want the anger but he can’t stop it, blinding him, _burning_ him, piling up on top of everything else and making it hard to see. “Take my head out of my ass so I can shove it up Kyungsoo’s, right? Just like you?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Chanyeol,” Baekhyun growls. “What the hell is your problem? God forbid I actually have someone in my life who makes me happy while you continue your little self-pity party all alone.” He screws up the acceptance letter envelope, and throws it to the floor. “God, you haven't even met Kyungsoo and you’re already treating him like he just killed your entire family.” Baekhyun scowls. “Grow the fuck up.”

“Why are you guys yelli--” Sehun stops short. “Um.”

“Grow the fuck up?” Chanyeol bites back, barely even registering Sehun’s appearance. “What, like, settle down with my kids and my student debt? Because that’s the only thing that makes me _worthy,_ right? Doing what the entire fucking world expects from me?” He laughs harshly. “Newsflash Baekhyun, you fucking failed the first time around, what makes you think you’ll pass on the second?”

And that’s when the anger stops, freezes, turns to ice in Chanyeol’s veins rather than liquid fire.

“Shit,” Chanyeol says, shoulders falling. “Shit, Baek, I didn't--”

“Don't.” Baekhyun grits out, and pulls back when Chanyeol reaches forward, leaving his hands frozen in mid-air. “Just… Just don’t.”

He leaves, and Chanyeol just stays like that, palm outstretched but open, as if he’d had something between his fingers but had let it slip, falling to the ground.

“Well,” Sehun says, with raised eyebrows, blowing out a mouthful of air as Baekhyun slams the front door behind him. “Does this mean I’m going to be a child of divorce?”

Chanyeol glares, and Sehun’s smile falters, looking away ashamedly. Scowling, Chanyeol grabs his board and guitar by the door in a thoughtless, frazzled mess, and leaves the apartment, needing to be anywhere else but here.

 

 

✪

 

 

Kick off, 360, hard flip, rinse, repeat. One edge of the half-pipe, then the other. When Chanyeol’s wheels catch on the edge he doesn't fall, just manages to jump off the board and slide down the half-pipe, skidding down the wall on his feet.

Scowling in frustration, Chanyeol snatches his board back, and walks up the pipe to kick off again, 360, hard flip. Rinse and repeat.

It builds up like a fountain inside him, bursting forth because the water pressure is just too much for Chanyeol to hold back. He tries to remember when it went wrong, between him and Baekhyun, but at the end of the day there’s no one significant moment so much as it is a whole lots of little pieces, like every brick in a single wall, slowly building upwards and blotting out the light.

Maybe it’s better for them anyway, in the long run, because Chanyeol’s just a big pile of mess in the shape of an anchor, dragging everyone down with him because he can’t stand to be alone. Baekhyun doesn't need Chanyeol’s jealousy and pettiness in his life and Chanyeol doesn't need it either, so why not remove both the cause and the source? Rip it off like the neon-coloured bandages Baekhyun always used to always have on his elbows --before Kyungsoo came along, that is.

Everything in Chanyeol’s chest just feels like too much, and he wants it all to stop, the walls, the cage, the thick smoke that blocks out all the light. He wants it all to stop, and yet it never does, never will, and when Chanyeol reaches the top of the half-pipe he doesn't kick off again, just sits on the edge of it and cries, tears flowing as he sobs into the empty night air, pulling his knees to his chest and crying like a little kid that’s lost his way. It burns, and it freezes, and it _hurts_ , and Chanyeol hates himself for all of it because he knows the anger is just a cover up for all the self-pity and loathing.

“I thought you might be here,” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol jumps, startled, quickly swiping his tears away and wiping his nose on the back of his hand, eyes puffy as he squints at Jongdae in the darkness. “Baekhyun told me what happened,” Jongdae licks his lips. “Figured somebody needs to look after you.”

Chanyeol laughs, once, and sniffs. “And who’s looking after Baekhyun?”

“Who knows?” Jongdae smirks, sitting himself beside Chanyeol so that his legs are hanging off the edge of the half pipe. “Kyungsoo, maybe, but he’s a big boy. Baekhyun doesn't need someone to look after him like you do.”

“You do too,” Chanyeol blurts, and when Jongdae looks at him quizzically, swallows. “You need somebody to look after you too.”

Jongdae hesitates. “I do,” he admits, after a beat of silence. “And maybe that’s why you and I work so well together.”

Jongdae stands suddenly, offering out a hand, and for the first time all night Chanyeol looks at him from behind tear-stained eyes, at the line of his cheekbones and the curl of his lips, the softness of his features without piercings in them and the way he’s swallowed by his tattered _Pokémon_ t-shirt, the hard, outer-shell having melted away.

“Let’s go home, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol takes his hand, inwardly refusing to ever let go.

 

 

✪

 

 

The drive back to Jongdae’s apartment is silent, but it helps Chanyeol pull himself back together again, wiping away the majority of his tears in the hem of his singlet and sniffling every three seconds.

“So what happened?” Jongdae asks, and begins pulling ingredients out of the fridge, chopping them up. “Baekhyun didn’t exactly elaborate.”

Chanyeol curls himself just that little bit more, pulling his feet onto the kitchen stool like he isn't too big for this and resting his chin on his knees.

“I don’t even know,” he admits, and laughs, feeling tears prick at the corner of his eyelids again, quickly pawing them away. “Nothing? Everything? It was stupid. _We’re_ stupid.”

“You both are,” Jongdae agrees, and begins stirring something into a pan, cracking a few eggs over the skillet. Chanyeol huffs. “But you’re also best friends.”

He gives Chanyeol a pointed look then, and Chanyeol inhales, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Do you ever…” he starts, and can feel the vulnerability of it, the way it feels like there’s a door around his heart and the wind is blowing straight through it. “Do you ever feel like you’re just… being left behind?”

“All the time,” Jongdae responds casually, without even having to think about it, and scrapes two omelets onto two separate plates. He grins at Chanyeol’s stunned face. “What? Thought you were the only one with insecurities?”

“No…” Chanyeol mumbles, and pokes at the omelet with the fork Jongdae slides across the counter, nibbling at his own as he leans his elbows on the marble top. “... But I guess I was… jealous? Or something?” He furrows his brow. “I don’t even know, dude,” Chanyeol sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just know I said a whole lot of dumb, awful shit.”

“Yeah well, knowing Baekhyun, he probably said some dumb, awful shit back,” Jongdae chews on his mouthful thoughtfully, rolling it from cheek to cheek. He huffs. “I guess the best we can do is just let you two cool down, huh?”

Chanyeol smiles weakly. “Sorry that you have to play umpire.”

Jongdae shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says, and rolls a piece of tomato around on his plate absentmindedly. “As long as I don’t have to wear stripes, I’ll be fine.”

Chanyeol laughs, and Jongdae grins at him, self-satisfied.

“You’d look good in anything, though,” Chanyeol says, and finally takes a bite of the omelet. It tastes good, but Chanyeol’s not really hungry, and it only settles like a lead weight in the bottom of his stomach. Jongdae’s staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jongdae mutters, and walks around the counter to kiss Chanyeol, startling him, tasting like a mixture of egg and spring onions. “You’re not getting left behind, Chanyeollie,” Jongdae mumbles, resting their foreheads together as Chanyeol just slips his eyes shut, listening to the soft hum of Jongdae’s lower voice. “You’re too precious to leave behind.”

Chanyeol laughs tightly. “That’s kinda gay dude,” he jokes, but Jongdae doesn’t say anything, just searches his face for a while before kissing him again, tugging at Chanyeol’s bottom lip with his teeth. Chanyeol sighs into the kiss, and sucks on Jongdae’s tongue, pressing his own into the stud, Jongdae grunting as he claws his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“You up to his?” He breathes out, panting, and Chanyeol nods, licking his lips and tasting omelet and Jongdae.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling weakly. “I could use a distraction.”

Jongdae nods in understanding, and surges forward to kiss Chanyeol, hungry even though they’ve already eaten.

“Shower,” Jongdae mumbles. “ _Now_.”

Chanyeol’s all too happy to agree, stumbling backwards as Jongdae refuses to break apart their lips, craning to make up for the height difference between them. Chanyeol hits the wall and the door knob before he actually makes it through the bathroom, and Jongdae is gasping for breath against his mouth as they draw back only to pull each other’s clothes off, ripping them overhead.

“You good?” Jongdae asks, panting, and when Chanyeol nods he pulls them both under the shower-head, squealing at the coldness together and then laughing at each other’s whining, eventually warming up. Chanyeol washes Jongdae’s hair, taking a weird sort of pleasure in the way he almost _purrs_ , and then Jongdae turns around and kicks at Chanyeol’s shins to get him to crouch down so he can reach, Chanyeol’s laugh tapering off into a sigh when Jongdae digs his fingers into his scalp and massages his head too.

Chanyeol hums to himself, and then Jongdae rinses out his hair --it’s one of the fancy, detachable showerheads-- before sinking down, kissing at the top of Chanyeol’s thigh.

It’s not like Chanyeol had been trying to hide his erection, because he’s only human, and if there’s a sopping wet, naked body beside him, touching the sensitive spot behind his ear and sending tingles down his spine, then okay, he’s probably going to get a little interested, it’s only natural.

But before Jongdae does anything else he just stands again, smirking up at Chanyeol.

“Wash your ass for me, would you?” He says, and Chanyeol nearly slips over and dies.

“ _What_?” He splutters, and Jongdae’s still smirking at him, smug.

“Aw, c’mon, Yeollie,” Jongdae whines, pouting. “I wanna eat you out."

“That’s--” Chanyeol turns bright red, ears burning, but, well, he’s not against the idea... “--That’s pretty fucking gross.”

“Uh yeah that’s why I want you to wash the target location, duh,” Jongdae sighs, shaking his head. “Honestly Yeollie, I’ve shoved my dick in there plenty. Big difference if it's my tongue." He grins lopsidedly, nudging Chanyeol with his elbow. "What’s a little rimming between bros?”

“I--” Chanyeol really needs to work on his vocabulary, so he can stop falling short in moments like this. “ _\--Okay_ ,” he relents. “B-But I’m not letting you watch.”

“Not exactly my idea of foreplay either, big boy,” Jongdae says, patting Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly and stepping out of the tub. “Don’t worry,” he purrs, Chanyeol unable to stop himself from tracing the water rivulets that outline every single edge and angle on Jongdae’s body. “It’ll be worth it.”

Chanyeol shudders at that, but sets to work, ignoring his own reluctance as he washes out the places he has... certainly never considered washing out so thoroughly before. He dries himself off with the same towel Jongdae had used, and wraps it around his waist only because he’s still kind of self-conscious, Jongdae thumbing through his phone idly, butt-naked on the bed, wet hair leaving the pillows damp.

“Finally,” Jongdae mutters, and pulls Chanyeol towards him, kneeling on the edge of the bed as Chanyeol still stands, pressing their lips together. “Won’t be needing this,” he mumbles, and tugs the towel off until it drops to the floor, Chanyeol sighing at this poor attempt of humility. Jongdae grins up at him, fingers resting on Chanyeol’s hip bones. “C’mon dude,” Jongdae mumbles, and pulls Chanyeol onto the bed. “I want dessert.”

“You’re disgusting, bro,” Chanyeol snorts, sitting awkwardly by the edge of the mattress. Jongdae just shrugs.

“You’re my enabler~” he croons sweetly, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes before kissing Jongdae, pressing their bare skin chest-to-chest. Jongdae sighs happily, and already Chanyeol feels his dick twitch in interest, especially when Jongdae slides his naked thigh between Chanyeol's.

“So impatient,” Chanyeol mumbles, when Jongdae makes an unintelligible, whiny noise in the back of his throat, and swats at Chanyeol half heartedly, pushing him up until they’re both sitting.

“Want to taste you,” Jongdae mumbles, and it shouldn’t send heat coursing through Chanyeol’s body, but it does, shuddering as Jongdae notices and smirks. “So get on your hands and knees for me, _bro_.”

Chanyeol snorts, but does as he’s told, shivering when Jongdae presses a kiss to his shoulder blade, the middle of his back, dipping along his spine and pressing his tongue against every ridge. Chanyeol’s getting hard just in anticipation of it, and when he cranes his neck around and catches Jongdae smirking, he figures Jongdae’s probably pretty chuffed with himself for that.

“Ready?” Jongdae asks, lining up a dental dam.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol gasps out, but wants to take it back the moment Jongdae pushes his tongue through, because how could anyone truly be ready for _that_.

Chanyeol gasps at the sensation, and immediately clenches at the sheets, back-arching as he feels Jongdae laugh against his ass. It’s a weird feeling, but definitely not a bad one as Jongdae kisses his thigh and then trails his tongue back down the crack again, lapping into it.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Chanyeol groans out, and presses his face into the sheets, huffing as Jongdae just continues making wet, _filthy_ noises, fucking his tongue into Chanyeol over and over again.

“You can just call me Jongdae,” Jongdae mutters, smirking, thumbing a drip of saliva off his bottom lip. Chanyeol’s about to say something witty, he promises, but then Jongdae’s tongue is back inside him and he can’t remember how to breathe, entire body buzzing with heat and pleasure as he leaks precome onto the sheets.

“ _Fucking_ \--” Chanyeol pants, maybe a little bit overwhelmed. “--Get me off Jongdae or so help me _god_ \--”

“Yessir,” Jongdae slurs, and reaches for the bottle of lube, Chanyeol huffing.

“Not my kink,” he mutters, and Jongdae merely cackles, warming the lube up between his fingers.

“Duly noted,” he says, and Chanyeol groans all over again when Jongdae puts a finger in and goes directly for the sweet spot, rubbing over it gently. “What are your kinks, anyway? I feel like we have an opportunity here to be a lot less vanilla than we are.”

“My kinks,” Chanyeol chokes out, as Jongdae starts scissoring him _casually_. “Are you hurrying the fuck up and touching me.”

“No homo though,” Jongdae mutters, sardonic, and Chanyeol’s about to ask him what that means but then Jongdae is flipping him around and using his left hand to stroke their erections, right hand scissoring in and out of Chanyeol as Chanyeol rests his legs behind Jongdae’s head and moans.

“Do you know how difficult this is?” Jongdae breathes out, and the fact that he’s already hard just from eating Chanyeol out, just from watching him, causes Chanyeol to groan. “I’m a _rightie_ , Chanyeol.”

“So multitalented,” Chanyeol bites back, and replaces Jongdae’s hand with his own right hand, since it’s larger and more coordinated, taking over with what little lube and precome remains between them. “Fuck, _Jongdae_ \--”

“ _Chanyeol,_ ” Jongdae groans, and thrusts into Chanyeol’s hand, Chanyeol over stimulated from the fingering and the friction around his dick as he cries out and comes into his own hand, splattering it over Jongdae’s stomach and the bed. Jongdae comes not too soon after --this time making a mess on Chanyeol’s stomach-- and he pulls his fingers out of Chanyeol’s ass with a groan, panting as he leans forward.

“So good,” Jongdae mutters, and leans forward for a kiss but Chanyeol puts a lubed hand against his lips to stop him, Jongdae frowning and grimacing as he pulls back and wipes at his mouth.

“That has been in places where the sun doesn’t shine, dude,” Chanyeol says, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Just because you want to eat my ass doesn’t mean I do.”

Jongdae pouts, and Chanyeol just laughs, pushing him away with a sticky hand. “Go brush your teeth,” he says, because that will make him feel better, and pulls himself off the bed to wipe the come and lube off his hands, using a towel to get it off his stomach too as Jongdae just glares at him in the mirror, pouring toothpaste on his toothbrush diligently.

“Really putting the oral in oral hygiene, huh,” Jongdae says, later, as he comes out of the bathroom and out onto the balcony where Chanyeol now sits, idly strumming the notes in his head he can’t quite get out. Chanyeol blushes, embarrassed to be caught playing, but Jongdae doesn’t seem to mind, settling next to him and sticking his legs through the gaps in the railing, just like Chanyeol. Jongdae looks so… soft, like this, with his wet hair combed out of his face and his piercings missing, wearing an oversized t-shirt that, Chanyeol belatedly realises, belongs to him.

Jongdae hums, and leans forward with his hands around the railing, eyes closing as a breeze blows past. Chanyeol’s heart squeezes in his chest, and even though Jongdae always manages to make things simple, he feels oddly confused.

“You’re really good, you know,” Jongdae says quietly, staring into the horizon. “At the guitar.” He pauses. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t like playing with an audience,” Chanyeol admits, always too self-conscious, nervous, or embarrassed to do otherwise. Jongdae opens his mouth to apologise, but Chanyeol shakes his head, readjusting the guitar in his arms slightly. “It’s okay, though,” he says, ass kind of sore from sitting on the flat ground amongst other activities. (He’s not as well-endowed as Jongdae, after all, as Jongdae has reminded him for the past four years throughout their friendship.) “It’s different when it’s you.”

“Play something for me,” Jongdae says suddenly, Chanyeol blinking down at him. “Anything, it doesn’t matter. I just want to hear you play.”

Chanyeol’s about to protest, but he shuts his mouth, shirking it off. Jongdae’s good at handling the little pieces of Chanyeol that he prefers to keep hidden, because Jongdae’s good at things like that, lighting up the dark, guiding lost travellers through the fog.

Chanyeol begins to play, and it’s nothing special, just the piece that’s been stuck in his head for a while now, sweet but mellow, slow and calm. It reminds Chanyeol of campfires, almost, of curling up next to someone as the night never seems to end, of tilted lips and dark eyes and a batman piercing that never gets removed. Chanyeol plays it, and the notes fill in themselves, Jongdae ad-libbing along through humming. His voice is a little flat or sharp in some cases, where the song goes where Jongdae doesn’t expect it, but they make it up together as they go, a duet between voice and guitar.

Jongdae leans his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder as he sings, and by the end of the song Chanyeol is crying, unaware that it had even happened, everything welling up in his chest and springing forth. There’s so much there, the anger from earlier melted into misery, to pain, mixed in with… with love, and fondness, and _being_ loved, the feeling of having a friend that Chanyeol knows will always stay by his side.

He sniffles, and Jongdae pulls his head back up, looking at him and smiling weakly. “Teardrops on your guitar, really, Chanyeol?” And Chanyeol just laughs lightly, sniffing.

“Sorry,” he says, but Jongdae shakes his head, leaning forward and kissing him lightly, brushing away Chanyeol’s tears with his thumb.

“Don’t apologise,” Jongdae murmurs, and kisses Chanyeol again, long and deep and slow, over and over and over. Jongdae kisses Chanyeol, and it’s not rushed or hurried, but it’s not just a kiss either, filled with things that Chanyeol can’t put a name to but make his chest twist all the same. It’s kind of gross, with Chanyeol still sniffling and his cheeks still wet as Jongdae brushes each tear away, but Jongdae doesn’t seem to care in the slightest, kissing him like every single clock has stopped, time frozen in this moment with just them, and every single second left to spare.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol wakes up to the morning with a still sore ass and the scent of bacon wafting through the house, grumbling and moaning as he rolls around in the sheets, which still smell like sex from last night’s subsequent rounds.

Chanyeol groans again --definitely not a morning person-- and rolls around some more before realising that Jongdae won’t be rescuing him any time soon, fumbling around the floor for his pants and crying out in pain when he stubs his toe on the edge of the bed.

Chanyeol pads into the living room, scratching at his stomach as he yawns, but Jongdae isn’t by the kitchen where the smell of breakfast is quickly turning burnt, but by the door, eyes wide as he holds it open.

“I need your help with--” starts a familiar voice, and when Baekhyun looks over Jongdae’s shoulder Chanyeol can only stare hopelessly back, Jongdae’s mouth frozen half-open. “ _\--_ Chanyeol.” Baekhyun says, and furrows his eyebrows in confusion, pushing past Jongdae and raking in Chanyeol’s shirtless state, he laughs, shaking his head, and turns to Jongdae.

“Well, Jongdae, glad to see you’ve already picked a side!”

“Baek--” Jongdae tries.

“God this makes so much fucking sense,” Baekhyun says, huffing bitterly as he shakes his head again. “How long?” He asks.

“ _Baekhyun_ \--” Jongdae tries.

“ _How fucking long_?” He reiterates, and this time he’s staring at Chanyeol, who can only stand there awkwardly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Since he broke up with Sunyoung,” Chanyeol answers and Baekhyun raises his eyebrows, barking out a laugh.

“That was fucking _months_ ago,” he says, in utter disbelief, raking both hands through his hair. “I can’t believe my own two fucking best friends have been screwing each other behind my back and I--” he chokes, scoffing. “--I should’ve fucking realised it sooner.”

“We’re just--” Chanyeol tries, but falters, uncomfortable with the waves of anger that are so tangible from Baekhyun he can _see_ them, but his own blood can only run cold. “--We’re just helping each other out, you know, being supportive--”

“ _Being supportive_ ,” Baekhyun repeats, and looks at Jongdae incredulously before turning back to Chanyeol and laughing. “ _Chanyeol_.” He bites out. “‘Being supportive’ means asking what’s wrong and giving a shoulder to cry on, not _fucking_ each other.”

“Because you would know, right?” Chanyeol adds, seething, and Baekhyun just scoffs again, shaking his head as he pushes past Jongdae and into the hallway. Jongdae only frozen in place as he reaches out to stop Chanyeol but he just keeps walking.

“God _,_ Baekhyun,” Chanyeol yells into the corridor, and Baekhyun stops mid-step, turning on his heel. “It just eats you up inside that my life doesn’t revolve around you, right?”

“Are you _fucking_ _kidding me_?” Baekhyun says, surging forward, and Chanyeol blinks at the fact that Baekhyun’s eyes are shiny with tears, even if his face is red with anger. “You think _that’s_ my problem?” He throws his hands into the air. “I’m so happy you’ve found someone Chanyeol! So glad that you decided to do it all behind my back with my own fucking best friend!”

“Why do you even care!?” Chanyeol argues. “This barely even affects you, Baekhyun! You have your life back, You have Kyungsoo--”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t need you too!” Baekhyun yells, just as all the fight drains away, and laughs self-deprecatingly as he turns his face sideways, tears flowing freely, wiping them away with the backs of his bandage covered hands. “You’re a _part_ of that life, Chanyeol, but now you guys have each other, and I’m--” Baekhyun chokes, shaking his head. “ _God_.” He breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut, and gives Chanyeol one last hurt look, before storming to the stairwell at the end of the hall even though they’re thirty floors up, leaving Chanyeol helpless to do anything but watch him go.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol can’t stay at Jongdae’s, because Jongdae reminds him of Baekhyun, and he can’t go home, because _everything_ reminds him of Baekhyun. No matter where Chanyeol goes, it’s just _Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun_ , and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the hurt look on Baekhyun’s face out of his head, knowing that it’s yet another problem in his life that needs fixing no thanks to his clumsy hands but having no fucking idea of how to fix it.

Besides, it feels like maybe they all just need a little space, a little time to cool off --the three of them. Even if Jongdae hadn’t been a part of it originally, he sure as hell is a part of it now, and Chanyeol knows neither he nor Jongdae cope well with being alone, but they don’t really have any other choice. Being with Jongdae isn’t going to help whatever the hell is happening with Baekhyun, right now, and Chanyeol thinks that maybe all that time they’d frozen together is finally starting to melt, catching up to them and submerging their bodies in water, drowning them.

Chanyeol grunts, his kick-flip a shitty failure, and decides to call it quits for the day, skating around the streets aimlessly rather than practicing tricks at the park. Eventually, his stomach growls, and Chanyeol gives up altogether as he heads back to the apartment, dumping his board and shoes at the door.

“Baekhyun’s at Kyungsoo’s,” Sehun says, from where he’s stirring a mug of tea with the tea bag. (Chanyeol didn’t even know they had tea, let alone that Sehun drinks it.) “You’re safe.”

“Did he…” Chanyeol clears his throat. “Did he say anything to you? About it?”

“Nah,” Sehun says, and sips his tea obnoxiously, gasping at the end of his mouthful. “Only muttered something beneath his breath while he wiped away his tears and shoved clothes into his bag.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “Oh, well. Great.” Chanyeol dumps himself onto the kitchen chair, and groans into his hands. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Here’s to that,” Sehun says, lifting his mug, and Chanyeol just croaks out a weak, _Sehun_. “What? It’s called a joke. Try it sometime, Chanyeol. Lighten up a little.”

“Trying, Sehunnie,” Chanyeol groans, rubbing his temple. “I don’t know what to do _._ ” He mumbles, dragging his hands down his face.

“What even happened?” Sehun asks, so Chanyeol tentatively explains his fight with Baekhyun from their respective jealousy, and then letting him cool down by staying at Jongdae’s, only for the awkward encounter to take place. Sehun nods along, humming, and it’s probably the most interested he’s ever been in Chanyeol’s life for the entire four years that they’ve been rooming together, but that’s probably because Sehun loves drama and Chanyeol’s life at the moment is the definition of it.

“Well, I dunno what to do either,” Sehun offers, once Chanyeol is done, and Chanyeol just slumps forward again, groaning some more. “Oh c’mon man, they’re your friends, not mine.” He tilts his head in thought, shrugging. “Though it is kind of shitty that you got mad at Baekhyun just because his life is better than yours.”

“... Thanks.”

“But it’s shitty that Baekhyun got mad at you for sleeping with Jongdae,” Sehun adds, stroking his chin. “Although it’s also shitty that you did kind of keep it from him for like, ages.”

“... _Thanks_.”

“All-in-all, a solid shitty out of shitty, well done,” Sehun says, giving Chanyeol a thumbs up. Chanyeol just bangs his forehead into the dining table repeatedly. “You guys really are way too protective of each other, y'know. I’d probably try apologising to Baekhyun without all my pettiness getting in the way.”

“How is it my fault?” Chanyeol asks, indignant.

“It’s both your faults, man,” Sehun explains, and pats Chanyeol’s shoulder. “But mostly yours.”

Chanyeol just groans, and shoves his forehead against the table again. Sehun cackles as he disappears back into the Void™, and it’s all that Chanyeol can do to think, _good riddance_.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol thinks to apologise, really, he does, but by the time he makes it to his nine o’clock start at Junmyeon’s the next day, he realises that a) he’d left his guitar at Jongdae’s, and b) he doesn’t know how to apologise to Baekhyun, because he has no fucking way to see him. The only way to even arrange something is to text or call, but that just feels… superficial, somehow. Besides, Baekhyun’s the type that’s petty enough to ignore Chanyeol’s calls and texts even if he did send them, so it would only be unnecessarily running up the phone bill. The only way Chanyeol’s going to get himself an audience is if he confronts Baekhyun face-to-face, but he has no idea where Baekhyun is.

At the same time, however, Chanyeol doesn’t know if it’s worth following up to begin with, because maybe it would just be better to let this end their friendship entirely. After all, Baekhyun’s moving towns, houses, and lives, soon enough, and Chanyeol’s clearly just a worthless asshole, so why hold him back? It’s not the first time Chanyeol’s had this thought, and it probably won’t be the last. There’s a reason why everyone always moves ahead of Chanyeol, out of his reach, and that’s because he’s worth leaving behind to begin with.

Chanyeol takes his break around lunch time, and eats a peanut butter sandwich in Joohyun’s music room, careful not to get crumbs between the keys. He finishes the crusts off, chewing in the silence, and wipes his palms on his shorts before pressing them to the keys delicately, starting off light and soft before crowing louder, crescendoing, running along the keys as the song ascends into something dark, a violent cadence of notes as he slams his fingers into the keys, forcing all his frustrations into each note. It’s not a piece Chanyeol had written, but one he’d taught himself back home, when he’d lived with his mom and used to give her impromptu shows in the living room whenever she wanted. His mother always smiled most when Chanyeol was behind the piano, and he wonders if she’d be smiling now, as the song tapers off into something softer, and eventually Chanyeol just pulls his hands back, stopping.

“So this _is_ the right place,” someone says, and Chanyeol jumps again, really, _really_ sick of random people doing that. He furrows his eyebrows at the man standing stiffly in the doorway, and Chanyeol’s eyes widen in delayed recognition when he realises it’s fucking Kyungsoo.

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, lamely. The silence feels suffocating. “You look different with a shirt on.”

Kyungsoo’s entire face turns red within an instant. Distantly, Chanyeol thinks, Kyungsoo really is super good looking. Like, way-out-of-Baekhyun’s-league good looking. No wonder Baekhyun tried to dress nicely to impress him.

“I feel like we kind of got off on the wrong foot,” Kyungsoo says.

“I think I prevented you from getting off,” Chanyeol adds, lips twitching when Kyungsoo just closes his eyes, eventually grinning.

“ _Please_.” Kyungsoo says.

Chanyeol just laughs. “Sorry sorry,” he apologises, waving his hands. “Continue.”

“I feel like you and I met under some…” he turns red, shirking into his shoulders. “... awkward, circumstances.” Chanyeol can’t even believe that this is the guy Baekhyun’s dating, because he’s so… polite, and reserved, and so easy to rile up-- wait, it makes perfect sense as to why Baekhyun’s dating him.

“I think you mean under Baekhyun,” Chanyeol corrects, smirking. “Or, I mean, you were, at least--”

Kyungsoo sighs, a long-suffering thing. “You’re exactly like him, you know that right?”

Chanyeol grins. “So I’ve been told.”

Kyungsoo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look,” he starts. “Baekhyun’s miserable.” Chanyeol frowns. “And no offense, but judging by your beautiful rendition of one of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard in my fucking life, you’re miserable too.” Chanyeol frowns with Extra Frown. “So could someone tell me what’s going on?”

Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo, blinks. “Baekhyun… didn’t tell you?”

“Have you met Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo says, squinting. “He’s the most secretive person I know." Kyungsoo huffs. "All I know is that he fought with you and now he’s miserable. I had to find out where you worked from _Sehun_. Have you ever tried getting information out of Sehun?”

Chanyeol just furrows his brow, because Baekhyun’s like an open book that won’t stop talking about itself, sometimes. Jongdae, Chanyeol and Baekhyun are all known for being the _loud_ type, but Baekhyun really takes the cake, sometimes, with the rate his mouth can run.

“Well, you wouldn’t find him secretive,” Kyungsoo adds, at the look on Chanyeol’s face, answering an unspoken question. “You’re his best friend. You know him better than I do.”

And it hits Chanyeol then, kind of, that he’d spent this whole time filling his idea of Kyungsoo as this object for Baekhyun to moves towards, when in reality, it hadn’t been like that at all. At the end of the day, Baekhyun and Chanyeol have been friends for years, and Kyungsoo and Baekhyun have barely even known each other for more than a few months. Chanyeol’s been putting space between them because he figures that’s what Baekhyun had wanted, but in reality all he’d been doing is moving onwards without Baekhyun, and leaving him behind sans his own best friend.

Worse than that, he’d been moving onwards without Baekhyun with Jongdae, and had figured that it was better for all of them.

Chanyeol is a fucking idiot.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Chanyeol says out loud, and groans into his hands, rubbing them up and down his face vigorously. “Any chance you know where I could find him?” He asks meekly, peering at Kyungsoo through the gaps in his fingers. Kyungsoo nods.

“He’s staying at my apartment,” he says, and offers his phone out, Chanyeol putting in his number for Kyungsoo to text him the address, Chanyeol’s phone buzzing once it’s sent. “He took the day off, so he’ll be there, but I won’t be back until eight.”

“That’s okay,” Chanyeol says, swallowing. “I think it’s probably best if we’re alone, anyway.”

Kyungsoo nods in understanding, and then stands awkwardly by the doorway, inching forward as if to leave, but held back by social convention.

“Kyungsoo--” Chanyeol starts, and then licks his lips, pausing. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He fiddles with his phone between his hands. “I mean, if I made Baekhyun that miserable, then maybe he'd be better off without me…”

After all, Chanyeol’s already proven it, time and time again; he’s just a ball and chain around Baekhyun’s ankle, causing suffering. It would almost be better for Baekhyun to take this opportunity to move on, because Chanyeol’s kind of a petty asshole and Baekhyun really, really deserves a better friend than that; especially since he's kind of a petty asshole, too, and the similarities between Chanyeol and Baekhyun can kind of cause them to clash over the stupidest shit, sometimes. This definitely isn't the first fight they've ever had, and it won't be the last, either.

“Chanyeol…” Kyungsoo replies, frowning. “If you love something--”

Chanyeol slumps forward, defeated. “--You let it go.” He finishes, sighing.

“What?” Kyungsoo asks. “No-- that’s garbage.” He shakes his head. “ _That_ ’s called giving up.” Kyungsoo says, and wrinkles his nose. “If you really love something, you fight for it, and you hold onto it with every last drop of strength.” Kyungsoo purses his lips. “You and Baekhyun are best friends, Chanyeol. That’s something worth keeping no matter what.”

Chanyeol’s lips twitch at that, again, and he breaks into a grin.

“So,” he says to Kyungsoo, smirking. “You like anime, then.”

“Goodbye, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo deadpans, finally leaving the music room with red cheeks, as Chanyeol yells  _friendship is my true power!_  and can only laugh to himself, turning back to the piano keys before settling down again.

Chanyeol never really has been a fighter, always just a lover, and maybe that’s not necessarily a good thing, when it comes to something like this.

Because Chanyeol can talk big about letting Baekhyun go but in the scheme of things, it really is just that; _giving up_. Chanyeol’s always been good at letting things go, because he’s always figured that that’s what best. Pour his heart into everything and then wonder why it hurts so much when it gets ripped from his chest, letting himself be left alone in the dust. Maybe he’s always just been too lazy to bother keeping it, too self-deprecating to believe he ever deserved it to begin with, but Baekhyun is Chanyeol’s best friend, and now more than ever, he could kind of use one of those.

They both could.

Chanyeol never has been a fighter, he thinks, as he places the lid over the piano keys, but it’s never too late to learn.

 

 

✪

 

 

Kyungsoo lives on the nice side of town that forces Chanyeol to scrounge up a few too many bucks to make the train fare --which, ew, but he reminds himself that Baekhyun is worth it. Maybe. Probably.

Hopefully.

“Did you forget your keys again?” Comes Baekhyun’s voice, as Chanyeol hits the button for apartment number 12.

“Something like that,” he replies, and there’s a moment of complete and total static before Baekhyun just says,

“No.”

“ _Baek_ ,” Chanyeol says, but the sounds already being cut off, leaving him stranded outside. Great, couldn’t Kyungsoo have thought of some way around this before Chanyeol forked over like, five bucks to get the train fare? Chanyeol presses his forehead against the glass door, and sighs.

Then he presses the buzzer for number 12 again.

And again.

And again.

“Go away,” Comes Baekhyun’s voice, childish and petulant.

“Not happening, Baek,” Chanyeol responds, leaning across the console. “I’ll camp out here until your boyfriend comes home if I have to.”

The static is good, because it means Baekhyun hasn’t cut the line yet, and it also means he’s thinking.

“ _No_ ,” he says again, insistent. “Just leave me alone, asshole.”

“Dickhead.” Chanyeol retorts, maturely.

“Jerkwad.”

“Cocksucker.”

“Other cocksucker.”

Chanyeol pauses. “That’s fair.”

Baekhyun sighs, but it’s only the rustling of static, the door beside Chanyeol clicking open.

“Just make it painless and quick,” he says, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes, walking to the first floor, and finds the door has been left open for him, Baekhyun bundled up in a cocoon of blankets on the couch.

“Hi.” Chanyeol says.

“Hi.” Baekhyun replies, squinting, and snuggles further into his protective casing of linen like a turtle into its shell. “Come to kiss my feet?”

Chanyeol snorts. “You wish.” He says, and tucks himself onto the corner of the couch opposite Baekhyun, pulls his feet onto the leather and watching the way Baekhyun shuffles over, weary. “I’m not here to grovel, Baek, I’m here to talk.”

Baekhyun’s nose twitches. “Talk?”

“When was the last time we just talked, dude?” Chanyeol asks, poking Baekhyun’s blanket mound with the top of his foot. “So talk.”

So after a moment's hesitation, Baekhyun does, talks all about meeting Kyungsoo at his job and asking him out because he was so _cute_ and Baekhyun didn’t even know what to do, talks all about Kyungsoo finding his art pieces in the back of his sketchbook and saying that he should pursue it, refine it, helping him submit a folio to SA and get through the interview and everything. Talks about feeling hopeless compared to Kyungsoo, feeling lost, feeling left out as Chanyeol and Jongdae spent all their time together, apparently sleeping together while they were at it, too.

“I don’t get it,” Chanyeol says, softly. “How could you feel left out?” After all, even if they had been sleeping together, it's not like Baekhyun was exclusively left out. They'd always hung out together in the past without invitation --Baekhyun is the one who'd started avoiding them.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun starts. “I have a boyfriend, a _boyfriend_ , and things between us are really fucking great, like, I-love-him great, but I’ve never even dated anyone for more than a week.” He laughs. “I’m going back to fucking school in a few months, and I needed someone, but my two best friends are spending every day together without me and also fucking. How could I not feel left out?”

Chanyeol frowns. “You never said anything…”

“You were never around for me to tell!” Baekhyun hisses, leaning forward.

“I needed you too, you know,” Chanyeol snaps back, reeling it in at the regretful look on Baekhyun’s face, calming himself down. “Stop acting like every time I came home you weren’t working, or out with Kyungsoo. When was the last time you even picked up a skateboard, Baekhyun? When was the last time you ever stopped expecting things from me and started realising that maybe our friendship isn’t just a one way street?” Chanyeol grunts. "Stop getting mad at me just because you held yourself back from ever hanging out with us. I'm not psychic, Baekhyun, I can't tell if something's wrong if you  _don't tell me_."

Baekhyun looks down guiltily, twiddles his thumbs. “Sorry.”

Chanyeol just sighs, slumping on the couch. “We both really screwed up, didn’t we?”

“Yep,” Baekhyun laughs, poking Chanyeol’s thigh. “Which is why we’re fixing it. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To talk, dummy,” Baekhyun says, and smiles weakly. “So talk.”

So Chanyeol talks too, about Yixing’s job offer and the fact that it’s probably too late to take it but he doesn’t even know if he wants it to begin with, about feeling worthless and feeling lost, about how Jongdae made things easier for him so they started hanging out more, about kind of maybe getting each other off from time to time and it just becoming a thing.

Baekhyun snorts, shaking his head as he cuts Chanyeol off mid-sentence. “Sorry," he says, not actually apologetic. "I just still can’t believe you’re gay.”

“I’m not…” Chanyeol licks his lips. “I’m not gay.”

“Uh no offense dude but you can’t exactly suck dick on the regular and then say you’re not gay.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Chanyeol insists, but maybe Baekhyun has a little bit of a point. The thing with Jongdae… probably isn’t that straight, in the scheme of things. “Maybe I’m… bi… or something?”

“No no no, _I’m_ bi,” Baekhyun says. “Jongdae is bi, Sehun is bi." He pauses. "I think you’re just gay, dude.”

Chanyeol frowns, but doesn’t bother arguing otherwise, because it’s not like Baekhyun would really get it. Sure, Chanyeol is… probably at least sexually attracted to Jongdae, he supposes, but maybe it’s just a Jongdae thing.

Baekhyun fidgets after Chanyeol just frowns into the silence, wriggling.

“Just spit it out, Baek,” Chanyeol teases, smirking.

Baekhyun sighs, bracing himself. “So are you and Jongdae dating?”

“No,” Chanyeol answers easily, and blinks at the surprised look on Baekhyun’s face --which answer does he want to hear, exactly? “What?”

“Why not?” Baekhyun asks, incredulous, and points an accusing finger. “As Jongdae’s best friend I am obligated to bully you into treating him right.”

“You’re my best friend, too,” Chanyeol says, amused.

“Yeah, but you’re an asshole,” Baekhyun comments offhandedly. “And therefore have no sanctity for me to protect.”

Chanyeol does not mention how nothing about Jongdae is even remotely close to pure, clearing his throat hastily.

“Jongdae’s an adult, dude,” Chanyeol says, nudging Baekhyun with his foot incessantly. “And we don’t like each other like that.”

Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol, and just keeps on looking. “Are you sure about that?” He asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Uh… yeah,” Chanyeol answers, furrowing his brow, because at the end of the day Jongdae really is just his bro, even if he is like, a surprisingly close one that Chanyeol trusts with all his fiber of being, but they’re not… romantic, like that. “We’re nothing like you and Kyungsoo dude, trust me.”

Baekhyun sighs, and digs his fingers into the side of his head. “Do you know how I know that I love Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun asks, and Chanyeol has to think about it before shaking his head because that non sequitur threw him off and sentence had way too many ‘ _know'_ s. “Kyungsoo and I don’t go together at all, because he's smart and hardworking and successful and clean and I'm... Me.” Baekhyun frowns. “But that’s why we work, Chanyeol, because Kyungsoo makes me want to keep moving forward. Kyungsoo shows me that not everything is a dead end, and Kyungsoo makes me want to be a better person.” Baekhyun inhales. “He's my Jongdae.”

Chanyeol looks at him, blinking. “What?”

“He's my Jongdae.” Baekhyun reiterates, carefully, this time around, slower. “He's to me what Jongdae is to you.” Baekhyun's frown deepens. “Doesn’t jongdae make you feel that way?”

Jongdae makes Chanyeol wish that the world could slow down, so they could stay in each other's arms just that little bit longer. Jongdae makes Chanyeol want time to stop, forever, so that Jongdae won't move on or get bored, just like everyone else in Chanyeol's life, but more than that Jongdae makes Chanyeol feel like he’s finally found his way through the fog and the smoke, a place to call home, a body that fits naturally against his.

“No,” Chanyeol says. “Not at all, dude.” He laughs, poking Baekhyun teasingly. “I told you we’re nothing like you and Kyungsoo.”

Baekhyun’s face falls at that, and he says, “Oh.” He bites his lip. “I could’ve sworn…” Baekhyun shakes his head. “Never mind. You really are just friends with benefits then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, shrugging. “I guess.” It’s the first time anyone’s slapped a succinct label on their… arrangement, but he supposes it fits well enough.

Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol carefully, searching his face, and says, “Just remember…” Baekhyun trails off, inhaling. “... Just because you don’t feel that way, doesn’t mean Jongdae doesn’t _,_ and I  _will_ kick your ass."

“What’s that mean?” Chanyeol asks, but Baekhyun chooses to ignore him, standing and offering out an Xbox controller wordlessly.

“C’mon dude,” Baekhyun says, as Chanyeol gingerly takes it. “Been way too long since I kicked your ass in PvP.”

“That’s ‘cuz it never happens,” Chanyeol snorts, and takes the controller, feeling relieved for the first time in a while as Baekhyun settles against his side and they take turns charging at each other with the plasma sword, laughing in between their own accusatory screams.

 

 

✪

 

 

Kyungsoo ends up being a really cool guy once Chanyeol stays over for dinner and gets to know him --and a really good cook, too, so no wonder Baekhyun likes him so much. He warms up slowly over the course of the night like a clam that's beginning to open, and no longer sits there and just takes Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s jabs, beginning to bite back and seamlessly weaving into their banter routine.

It seems stupid, somehow, that Chanyeol had channelled all his negative emotions into the vessel of Kyungsoo, because Kyungsoo is polite and kind-hearted if not a little socially awkward, and Chanyeol likes him too much to blindly take his frustrations out on his existence, unable to feel anything but happiness at how well he and Baekhyun fit against each other, at how happy Baekhyun seems to be just by Kyungsoo being there. It's a nice feeling, Chanyeol thinks, once he's done being all insecure about Baekhyun leaving him behind or something, and it really does make his chest feel warm.

“Thank you,” Baekhyun says, as Chanyeol’s grabbing his board and leaving, leaning against the doorframe. “For tonight.” He explains. “And for being civil.” He adds, smirking.

“He’s cool, y’know,” Chanyeol says, patting Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”

Baekhyun holds up his hand, and wordlessly, Chanyeol returns the fist bump, grinning.

“Use protection kids!” He calls into the apartment right as he leaves, just enough to catch Baekhyun’s cackle and the redness of Kyungsoo’s face as he skates down the street, smiling into the night hair as he heads back home. It’s only one thing off his plate yet already Chanyeol feels lighter, and he really can’t help but relish in the feeling, thinking that maybe this whole, holding onto things he cares about thing, really isn’t all that bad.

 

 

✪

 

 

Just seeing Jongdae makes a wave of calm flood through Chanyeol’s veins, and he can’t help but smile as he pushes himself through the door and onto the couch, grinning unrepentantly at the ceiling.

“Good to see you too,” Jongdae lets out slyly, as Chanyeol just laughs, Jongdae sitting beside him. “Fixed things, then?”

“For once, yeah,” Chanyeol says, and grins as Jongdae crawls into his lap and kisses him, winding his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. “What about you?”

Jongdae makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Baekhyun can never stay mad at me for more than an hour anyway,” he says, moving his lips down to Chanyeol’s jaw line. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I'm not too worried.” Jongdae hums. "Pretty sure he was angrier at you anyway."

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, and tugs at Jongdae’s ear when he feels him bite, a punishment for marking him, _again_. “Something tells me you don’t want to talk about Baekhyun.” Chanyeol supposes, smirking.

“Good guess,” Jongdae laughs, breath fanning against the sensitive skin of Chanyeol’s neck, causing him to shiver. “I haven’t gotten off in like, three days, Yeol. I’m pretty sure that’s a cardinal sin.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of a cardinal sin, dude,” Chanyeol laughs, groaning when Jongdae grinds his ass down onto Chanyeol’s dick, digging his fingers into Jongdae’s back pockets. Jongdae’s piercings are back in again, and Chanyeol sucks on his tongue indulgently, moaning around the stud in his own mouth as Jongdae moans right back. “ _God_.” Chanyeol groans, as Jongdae rolls his hips and continues kissing him desperately with that same, fiery hunger that’s common between them.

“I’m _so_ fucking horny,” Jongdae pants against Chanyeol’s neck, licking along the line of it. “Couldn’t stop-- thinking about fucking you-- all goddamn day--”

“Jesus Dae,” Chanyeol pants, and finds it hard to believe that while he and Baekhyun had the most emotional moment of all time Jongdae was doing his editor shit from home, thinking about bending Chanyeol over and fucking him, maybe rimming him again, getting all hot and bothered--

Jongdae cackles into the curve of Chanyeol’s shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” He asks, Chanyeol only making an unintelligible string of syllables as he’s so close already just from desperately grinding up against Jongdae, pushing him down by using his leverage of his hands in Jongdae’s back pockets, harder, better, faster. “That I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Chanyeol groans in response, and Jongdae laughs breathily, taking Chanyeol’s hands into his own and licking at them, biting his palms.

“Weirdo,” Chanyeol says, but Jongdae turns any further insults into a hiss by rolling his hips, smirking down at Chanyeol.

“I like your hands,” Jongdae comments simply, tilting his head. He frowns thoughtfully, and then, “About the kinky stuff actually.... how would you feel about choking me?”

Chanyeol coughs so hard he forgets how to breathe. “What?”

“I mean,” Jongdae smiles sheepishly. “Platonically _,_ of course.” He pauses, adding, “No homo?”

“Jongdae, there’s nothing remotely platonic about choking!” Chanyeol splutters, turning so red it’s kind of killing his boner as his body is torn between where to send blood, embarrassed beyond description.

“Anything can be platonic if you put your mind to it,” Jongdae scoffs, letting go of Chanyeol’s hands and frowning.

“Not choking!!!!” Chanyeol argues. “Not sexual asphyxiation!!!” Dear god what is his life? “There’s nothing platonic about that, Jongdae!!!!!”

Jongdae snorts. “Neither is putting my dick in your mouth but you did that eagerly enough.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen as his entire body feels like it’s been hit by a truck _,_  because-- did Jongdae just spit on the platonic sanctity of a brojob? “That’s--” Chanyeol’s ears are going to burn off. “--That’s different.” He splutters. “That’s…. That’s not kinky _._ ” He says the last word in a half-whisper, and Jongdae just gives him an unimpressed look.

“Didn’t realise you were so vanilla, jeez,” Jongdae replies casually, shrugging as he leans back in. “It’s fine, though, let’s just do something els--” Chanyeol picks up Jongdae under the arms like a cat and moves him off of Chanyeol’s lap, standing hurriedly.

“I’m going home,” Chanyeol squeaks, leaving Jongdae frowning on the couch. “Just-- I gotta go.”

Jongdae frowns at him worriedly. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable but you don’t have to leave,” He reaches out to Chanyeol, eyebrows knitted together. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, you know, we can just hang out--”

“No I--” Chanyeol shakes his head, making sure to grab his guitar this time around as his heart beats wildly in his chest. “I really need to go.”

“Chanyeol--” Jongdae tries, but Chanyeol is near hyperventilating as he walks out of the apartment and skates down the street, hoping no one he passes notices the boner he’s still having a little trouble killing as his entire body freaks the fuck out, running away as per usual.

This whole, fighting thing? Yeah, scratch that. Chanyeol is  _so_ choosing flight.

 

 

✪

 

 

“Dude if you’re gonna flip your shit can you at least do it in your room?” Sehun asks, as he lazily eats hot cheetos shirtless on the couch while the TV blasts what Chanyeol is ninety-five percent sure is _High School Musical 2,_ Chanyeol just standing by the door and hyperventilating, half from exertion, half from panic.

“Why have you even left the sixth dimension anyway!?” Chanyeol snaps, gesturing to Sehun’s bedroom door while still trying to regain his breath, but Sehun only raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“Chill,” he says, and shuffles the bowl in his lap. “You and Baekhyun are never home these days, so I might as well get out a little.” Chanyeol’s not sure how the living room constitutes as getting out, but then again, Sehun’s brain works in mysterious ways. “What’s got you so strung up anyways?”

Chanyeol considers leaving it be, but Sehun’s hunt for drama and ability to sniff out lies prevents him from escaping the corner he's backed himself into, sighing in resignation.

“Jongdae…” Chanyeol swallows. “Asked me to choke him.” He steels his breathing. “Which seemed kinda gay.” Because despite it being asphyxiation there's just-- there's just a level of love and trust that comes into that that Chanyeol and Jongdae don't have because they're _bros_ , not  _lovers_. 

Or maybe Baekhyun's insinuations are getting to him more than they should.

“And?” Sehun asks, unimpressed. Chanyeol just stares dumbly at him. “Oh c’mon dude, that’s not a good reason to be on the edge of a panic attack. We all have our kinks.”

“We do?” Chanyeol squeaks out.

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Sehun squints. “So now Jongdae thinks you’re freaking out because you’re vanilla and not because you’re in love with him.”

Chanyeol stares at Sehun.

Sehun stares back.

“What.” Chanyeol asks, dumbly. “ _What_.” Chanyeol shakes his head. “Jongdae and I are just friends,” he says. “Why does everybody say we aren’t?”

“Right, friends,” Sehun answers, and turns back to the screen as Zac Efron ballet dances his angst out across an open golf field. “Friends that fuck and kiss and spend all their time together.” He flicks his eyes to Chanyeol. “Also known as boyfriends.”

“ _No_ ,” Chanyeol reiterates. “Also known as _friends_. With benefits.” Chanyeol isn’t all too fond of labels or expectations, but he figures that suits most of all.

“Yes,” Sehun agrees. “Friends with benefits that love each other. And would die for each other.” He tilts his head. “Those sorts of friends with benefits?” Chanyeol frowns, and Sehun sighs. “Fine,” he relents. “Let’s pretend you’re not in love with Jongdae, and the sun rises in the west and grass is red.” His lips twitch. “Then why else would you be freaked out?”

“I--” Chanyeol swallows, shirks into his shoulders. “ _Choking_ \--”

Sehun rolls his eyes. “Oh c’mon dude, Jongdae asked and everything, it’s not that weird,” he frowns at the bowl when his hand hits emptiness and cheetos dust. “I’m sure some part of you figured out that friends with benefits probably shouldn't be in love and you just freaked the fuck out because wow, maybe you both _are_ kind of gay. Choking was the perfect escape opportunity.”

“What is my life?” Chanyeol mumbles, sinking his head into his hands. Sehun rolls his eyes again.

“I mean really, dude,” he says. “It stopped being harmless brojobs once you two started doing things that aren't fucking brojobs.”

Chanyeol pauses, staring at the ground and furrowing his brow. “How do you even know what we've done?”

“A healthy afterglow?” Sehun offers, and Chanyeol just gives him a look. “What don’t I know, Chanyeol, I’m omnipresent.”

He has a point there.

“Besides, not like you’re denying it,” Sehun mumbles, snorting at the affronted look on Chanyeol’s face.

Chanyeol grunts in frustration. “Why can’t two people sleep together without everyone claiming they’re in love?” Because two accusations in one day makes him irked, settling bitterly in the back of his throat. Maybe Baekhyun really had just put all these seeds of doubt in his head and that's why Chanyeol is freaking out. Yeah, that's definitely it.

Sehun scoffs. “They can,” he answers simply. “Just not you.” Sighing, Sehun pauses the movie on screen, and moves the bowl off his lap, just so he can push himself onto his elbows and look at Chanyeol more seriously. “You’re like, the most loveable, clingy person ever. I don’t think no-strings-attached comes in your vocabulary, Chanyeol, even if you like to pretend it does.”

Chanyeol frowns at that, and idly remembers that maybe this is why he doesn’t talk to Sehun, all too often.

“But Jongdae…” Chanyeol starts, and remembers how Baekhyun had made his grand monologue about the way Kyungsoo made him feel. Jongdae doesn’t do any of that for Chanyeol, doesn’t make him want to change or make his toes curl or his heart beat faster. All Jongdae does is just… make Chanyeol want to be by his side, just that little bit longer. “Jongdae doesn’t make me feel like I’m in love with him.” Chanyeol says, voice quiet.

“Maybe the problem here is that you’re expecting him to,” Sehun answers, and Chanyeol flicks his eyes up, blinking. For the umpteenth time, Sehun sighs. “Look, just because you’re dating someone doesn’t mean it has to be any different than if you were friends, it’s more like…” he chews his cheek, choosing his words. “... an upgraded version of friendship, that comes with more benefits, like paying for Spotify to get premium or some shit.” He looks at Chanyeol curiously, and tilts his head. “And maybe you’ve never felt any different because you’ve always been in love with him.”

Chanyeol laughs, because that’s all he can think to do, over the way his brain is running itself in circles, like a broken record stuck on loop but skipping beats of the song over and over, blurting out a disjointed, jumbled mess.

“That sounds a little too romantic,” Chanyeol says, thinking, _cheesy_ , and knows that there has certainly never ever been a heart-palpitating phase around Jongdae --except for when they’d first met. But that had been because Jongdae was Baekhyun’s long lost best friend and Chanyeol felt like maybe he’d have to fight for the position, or something, not because Jongdae had three piercings in each ear and the sort of eyes that looked through Chanyeol, rather than at him. For as happy-go-lucky as Chanyeol can be, at the best of times, love at first sight is still a bit of a stretch, so, quite frankly, the idea that he’s in love with Jongdae is kind of fucking ridiculous.

“Fine,” Sehun says, snooty, and turns up his nose. “Then picture this: if you really are just friends with benefits, then how would you feel if Jongdae told you that he wanted to stop sleeping with you?” Sehun arches an eyebrow. “You could still be friends, maybe, but it wouldn’t be the same, would it? No sex, no kissing, no late-night cuddling or all the other lame shit you two do together because you’re a ginormous tree that missed out on the bark and only grew sap.”

“I--” Chanyeol falters, and pictures it, not letting Jongdae slip away so much as it would be just a few steps back, just barely beyond reach. They would still be friends, and it would just be like before, but for some reason now when Chanyeol pictures it, there’s a hole in the photograph, seeping black and torn sepia around the edges. It hurts _,_ even just to think of it, just to imagine reaching out to Jongdae but not being able to touch, of a small, imperceptible amount of distance being put between them that’s enough to feel like it stretches out for miles. Chanyeol’s heartbeat picks up in his chest, ringing in his ears, and he says, “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ding ding ding,” Sehun drawls. “World’s Most Oblivious, Loveable Idiot Award goes to…”

“ _Dude_ ,” Chanyeol says, and wonders where it happened, when it happened, _how_ \-- Chanyeol hadn’t even known he was capable of letting a dude suck his dick until Jongdae offered and now it feels like everything in his world has been turned upside down. “--What the hell am I meant to do?”

“I dunno,” Sehun says, shrugging, and Chanyeol struggles to find the wise love guru of three seconds prior as it buries itself beneath… Sehun. “Does anything really change? You were in love before and you’re in love now, the only difference is that you’re aware of it.”

“Yeah but…” Chanyeol fumbles, and wonders how he’s meant to _not_ be aware of it. Society dictates that he should tell Jongdae, or something, become his… boyfriend, or whatever, but is that what either he or Jongdae want? Chanyeol has no fucking clue.

And Jongdae … there’s no guarantee he feels the same way too, and that feels like a layer of risk and heartbreak that Chanyeol doesn’t think he’s exactly up to. So if he tells Jongdae, he could risk rejection and a shift in their relationship, but if he doesn’t tell him, either they continue on as fuck bros forever --which, unlikely-- or Jongdae eventually finds someone new and tears Chanyeol’s heart out without ever having realised he’d been holding onto it to begin with.

Kyungsoo had told Chanyeol to fight for what he loves, and that determination had worked, for a while, but in the face of this Chanyeol quickly finds it melting away, leaning back on old resorts of wondering if maybe it would be better for Jongdae to move on without him, anyway. Jongdae probably deserves somebody rich and successful and not a dropkick kid in a hoodie three-sizes too big that has more snapbacks than he has years of age and doesn’t know what he wants in life. Jongdae is sweet, and funny and smart and amazing and wonderful and Chanyeol is just… Chanyeol. What does he possibly have to offer?

“You could always just watch High School Musical with me,” Sehun offers, after far too much silence, and lazily gestures to the screen. “I’m about to start number three.”

Chanyeol sighs, and settles on the edge of the couch as Sehun just pulls his feet up, hugging a pillow against his chest.

“That works too,” Chanyeol says dumbly, and focuses on Troy Bolton’s heart torn angst, rather than his own, home-brand version of it, bleeding between his fingertips.

 

✪

 

“Junmyeon?” Seulgi says, waving a hand in front of Chanyeol’s face. “Did you forget to get Chanyeol serviced? I think he’s broken.”

Chanyeol frowns at that, and snaps back into the world of the living, pushing Seulgi’s hand out of his face. She giggles.

“Aw, you just haven’t been fed yet,” she teases, and leans on her tiptoes to pinch Chanyeol’s cheek as he just pushes her away, again. “You were so spaced out I could’ve mugged you and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“You wouldn’t have managed to get anything,” Chanyeol mumbles, save for the business card that he still carries in his back pocket and an empty wallet that’s more just for decoration than anything practical. All money earned here gets funnelled into paying the bills or buying video games on the rare chances he can afford to be indulgent, scraping together every last penny with Baekhyun. Then again, Baekhyun’s moving out soon, so maybe that’ll have to stop altogether. Huh.

“You’re making that face again!” Seulgi accuses, pointing at Chanyeol’s nose. “The thinking one!” She flicks Chanyeol’s nose. “You were not programmed to think, Chanyeol, believe me.”

Chanyeol grumbles something unintelligible and changes stacks, opting out to restock singing books in the row over rather than piano sheet music with Seulgi. She’s always a menace on a good day, and Chanyeol’s way too spaced out to handle it.

Because, okay, maybe he’s a little caught up in this whole being in love with Jongdae thing. He’s pretty sure it’s a startling revelation as far as revelation goes, so he gives himself the benefit of the doubt in his little freak-out party. Sehun had been entirely unsympathetic, and Chanyeol doesn’t want Baekhyun to say _I told you so_ , so he’s kind of just bottled it up and kept it to himself, trying to ignore its giant elephant presence in the corner of his mind alongside Jongdae's worried texts. Usually, in moments like these, being with Jongdae helps Chanyeol sort thoughts into the proper bins they belong in --recycling or trash-- but for once in his life, that’s kind of not an option.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon calls, and sticks his head around the shelf, eyebrows raised. “Somebody’s asking for you at the front desk.” Curious, Chanyeol stands from his crouch, and dusts off the front of his shorts, craning his neck through the stacks to see fucking Yixing. Oh shit. Great. Another added indecision to add to the list.

“I swear,” Junmyeon mumbles, as Chanyeol just swallows and steps out of the shelves. “What is it with you and cute boys asking for you specifically?”

In any other situation Chanyeol would probably follow that up, but Yixing’s already walking towards him, smiling with his dimple and all.

“Hi,” Yixing says. “You didn’t call.”

Junmyeon raises his eyebrows very high at that, and Chanyeol stumbles to say, “It’s not what you think!” As he grabs a startled Yixing and pushes him to the opposite corner of the store, where hopefully they can get a little privacy. It’s only after letting go of Yixing’s arms and sighing in relief that Chanyeol realises he probably shouldn’t have manhandled his potential employer. Oops.

Yixing just smiles. “Figured it wasn’t a no.”

“I--” Chanyeol starts, and falters, frowning. “I don’t know yet.” He licks his lips. “When would you need a response?”

“Within the next week,” Yixing answers, and smiles all over again. “The project got pushed back a few weeks because of a bug, but now they’re back to schedule and I’m behind, so…”

“And what...  is...  the project?” Chanyeol asks, because sure Yixing had come in in a rumpled suit with his nice smiles and mysterious business cards, but Chanyeol hadn’t managed to find much about his studio by mooching off of Jongdae’s wifi one night beyond the fact that he was a composer-for-hire, more or less, employed for soundtracks.

“A video game soundtrack,” Yixing answers, almost a little sheepish as he scratches behind his hear. “Just for a small puzzle game my friends are making, but they’ll pay, and it’s a good way to get started, you know, into the business.”

Chanyeol swallows at that, and Junmyeon ‘casually’ walks past, Chanyeol resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Seulgi snorts in the opposite end of the room and Joohyun gives a quizzical look at the entire situation when she comes out of the teaching rooms to refill her water bottle in the bathrooms, Seulgi leaning over to whisper something in her ear.

“Of course, it would be more like a trial run with me for a couple of compositions before we hired you, but I really did like your piece, you know.” Yixing hums. “Does it have a name?”

Chanyeol licks his lips, embarrassed. “Not yet,” he says, and Junmyeon gives him a look that clearly says _you’re on the clock_ even if the store is completely empty. “Look just-- just give me a few days, and I promise I’ll make up my mind, okay?”

“Alright,” Yixing agrees, easily, and Chanyeol almost falters at how… simple it had been. Really, though, trust Chanyeol to feel like it's all complicated when it never is, even in the face of the best opportunity he'll ever get in his life. “But I also came here because I needed some reeds," Yixing grins sheepishly. "Clarinet, three and a half?”

“Right,” Chanyeol says, blinking, and grabs a pack on his way back to the counter as he rings Yixing up, Junmyeon looking slightly less like he’d sucked on a lemon in the face of money. Yixing leaves with a wave and a glint in his eye that Chanyeol takes as pointed, and almost immediately Junmyeon’s placing his hands flat on the counter and leaning into Chanyeol’s space as he says, “Explain _.”_

“I--” Chanyeol rubs the back of his head, fidgeting, and squirms a little. “--He... offered me a job a while ago, but I haven’t… exactly gotten back to him.”

“A job where?” Junmyeon asks, and squints, because, right, Chanyeol is his valued employee, after all, even if he kind of forgets to treat Junmyeon like his boss like, ninety-nine percent of the time.

“Composing,” Chanyeol answers. “For a soundtrack.” He expects Junmyeon to blink in confusion or seethe or something, but instead he just grins brightly.

“Chanyeol, that’s wonderful!” He says, and pats him on the shoulder almost too hard, leaving Chanyeol to blink dumbly down at him. “You almost never talk about music these days, I thought you’d maybe given up.”

Thinking he’s said the wrong thing, Junmyeon quickly bites his lip, but Chanyeol just grins at him reassuringly, idly wondering if that’s really true. When he’d first come to Junmyeon’s store he’d been wild-eyed and in love with instruments of every caliber, desperate to pursue any passion to make up for what university had sucked out of him in the space of a single semester. It’s not that his passion for music had ever gone away, so much as it had just settled, become a quiet thing Chanyeol kept for himself behind closed doors, something soothing.

Kind of like his relationship with Jongdae.

“Why haven’t you taken it, then?” Junmyeon asks, and Chanyeol’s breath hitches, because he’s been sitting on so many dilemmas for so long he’d almost forgotten about some of them, bubbling over the limit when he stops to check the heat of the stove.

“Because…” Chanyeol starts lamely, and rubs the back of his neck. “Because I guess I’m kinda worried that it might ruin one of the only good things left in my life…?”

Because Chanyeol is used to having things taken from him alongside things leaving him behind. Chanyeol had loved learning once upon a time, but school had been quick to change that, and he'd loved making friends too, but then they'd all wormed their way out of his life as well, left Chanyeol straggling in quicksand as he’d tried to find a way around it. He knows what it’s like to work with deadlines, with expectations, and he doesn’t want music to become something that gets twisted in the hands of somebody else while Chanyeol is left too helpless to do anything about it, draining the enjoyment he gets from just messing around with a soundboard on his shitty old laptop and an acoustic guitar.

“Oh, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, almost kind of fatherly as he just reaches up on tiptoes to ruffle Chanyeol’s hair. Chanyeol is kind of disturbed from the whole experience considering Junmyeon’s only older than him by like, a year and a half, but, whatever. “Good opportunities like this don’t come around often, you know.” He smiles lopsidedly. “Don’t you think you love music too much to ever stop loving it?”

“I guess,” Chanyeol mumbles, noncommittally. Junmyeon just rolls his eyes fondly.

“You should always take the risk if the reward might be worth it,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol thinks, _huh_. “And even if it doesn’t work out, then that’s okay. You’re young, Chanyeol, you’re allowed to not know where you’re going and even more than that,” he leans forward slightly, as if to whisper conspiratorially. “You’re allowed to go two steps forward and one step back, so long as you get there in the end.”

Chanyeol thinks of all the family members and friends he’s been consulting over the years, of all the advice that has served to confuse him rather than help, and the entire time the words he’s been needing to hear have just been in front of him. Chanyeol is allowed to make mistakes, and isn’t that better than having never tried at all? If he ends up hating composing, then fine, he can just quit and go back to working at Junmyeon’s store, and his love for music will heal itself. If Jongdae ends up rejecting Chanyeol and saying that he doesn’t feel the same way, then fine, they can just go back to being friends, and their relationship will heal itself eventually too.

It may hurt, in the long run, but Chanyeol wants to learn how to be a fighter, and even if he loses in the ring, over and over and over, he at least wants to say that he tried, rather than never having even stepped in it to begin with.

“You’re…” Chanyeol starts, and looks down at Junmyeon. “A fucking genius. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I could stand to hear it more often,” Junmyeon says, but it quickly turns into an _oomph_ as Chanyeol can no longer hold back his lover self, crushing Junmyeon in a hug. Junmyeon just pats the top of his head lightly. “No inappropriate touching in the workplace.” He chastises, and Chanyeol pulls away, grinning sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says, and for good measure, adds, “No homo.”

“Thanks Chanyeol,” Junmyeon deadpans, and Chanyeol really can’t help himself but laugh. “Definitely eased my mind.”

“It always does,” Chanyeol says, grinning, and doesn’t mention that Junmyeon maybe sort of helped ease his mind too.

 

 

✪

 

 

Chanyeol heads over to Jongdae’s as soon as his shift is over, and he’s got this whole grand plan worked out that he’d spent the entire day mulling over, and he can picture it perfectly in his head. It involves his guitar, and a little serenading, and then something else romantic like kissing him desperately or something.

Because, okay, maybe Chanyeol’s a little lacking in the romantic department --hell, he didn’t even know he was in love until like, yesterday-- but what he lacks in a red rose for every day he's loved Jongdae --since he’s broke as fuck-- Chanyeol makes up for with sheer determination to not fuck this up, for this to he the heart-wrenching, tear-jerking end to a romantic movie that Jongdae deserves more than anyone else; Chanyeol’s talking like, dramatic-kissing-in-the-rain-scene right now. If this was a Nicholas Sparks book, then this moment in time would be the front goddamn cover. Chanyeol is going to romance the  _hell_ out of Jongdae, just like Baekhyun and his RPG characters.

Except, when Jongdae opens the door, says, “Chanyeol?” rubbing sleepily at his eye with all the piercings out, hair still wet, and wearing Chanyeol’s t-shirt, it’s all Chanyeol can do but to lose his breath and say,

“I love you.”

Okay, so maybe that's not the big, climatic, romantic moment Chanyeol had been plotting out until now, but whatever, it’s too late to back out. He pushes past Jongdae’s somewhat dazed self in the doorway, and shuts it behind him, spinning on his heel as he reaches the living room, steeling himself to face Jongdae.

"I love you," Chanyeol blurts, again, mouth running ahead of his brain. "Yes homo. Full homo.” He pauses. “Nothing _but_ homo.” Jongdae is still just staring at him, wide-eyed, so Chanyeol takes it as a sign to continue. “I love you so much you make my days better just by smiling and everything so much easier just by being near you and more than that I love you so much you make me want to be worthy of someone staying by your side so please,” Chanyeol gasps for breath, voice turning quiet. “Say something?"

“Chanyeol…” Jongdae starts, slowly, and steps forward. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

And then Jongdae’s kissing him, and it doesn’t take much for Chanyeol to kiss back, and there are no beautiful serenades or dramatic violin music and there isn’t a camera dramatically panning around them as everything finally feels like it slips into place; it’s just a kiss, it’s always been just a kiss, anti-climatic as hell, but still Chanyeol can’t help himself but grin into it, even as Jongdae cups his cheeks like he’s afraid Chanyeol’s going to walk away --as if he ever could _._

“You still haven’t said it back,” Chanyeol mumbles, when Jongdae gasps for air and presses their foreheads together, Chanyeol bending down almost uncomfortably.

Jongdae laughs breathily, looking at Chanyeol from behind his eyelashes. “Was me not kissing you passionately enough to take your breath away a good enough answer?”

“No,” Chanyeol says, and grins when Jongdae rolls his eyes. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Fine,” Jongdae relents, sighing. “I love you.” He pauses, and then, “No homo.” Chanyeol raises his eyebrows, and Jongdae just sighs again. “Okay, maybe a little homo,” Chanyeol gives him a look. “A lot of homo?” Chanyeol keeps on looking. “100% homo with only 2% fat.”

Chanyeol laughs, and kisses Jongdae again. “I love you.” He mumbles.

“I know,” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol pulls back a little giving him a questioning look. “Oh c’mon Yeollie,” Jongdae teases, and pokes Chanyeol’s stomach. “I honestly think it’s impossible to not fall in love with me.” Chanyeol, self-indulgently, raises his palm to cup Jongdae’s cheek, and Jongdae leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. “I was just waiting for you to come around.” He mumbles.

“You could’ve said something,” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae arches an eyebrow.

“You freaked out when I just mentioned a little romantic choking,” he scoffs, and Chanyeol blushes. “Imagine if I brought up the dreaded L-word.”

“My commitment issues aren’t that bad,” Chanyeol argues, defensive.

“No, they’re non-existent,” Jongdae says. “Because you’ve never really committed to anything to begin with.”

Jongdae arches an eyebrow, waiting for the comeback, but… maybe he’s kind of right. 

Chanyeol kisses Jongdae instead of bothering with any of his smug assholery, and mumbles, “So what now?”

“Hm?” Jongdae asks, and pulls back, blinking lazily.

“What changes?” Chanyeol asks, and brings Jongdae’s hands between their chests, intertwining their fingers. “I don’t think I really know how to be a proper boyfriend.”

“Nothing has to change, Yeollie,” Jongdae says, and kisses the top of Chanyeol’s knuckles. “Everything stays exactly where it is.” Jongdae pauses, and then adds, “Just maybe ask me before you sleep with someone else.”

Chanyeol laughs, and just kisses Jongdae, because it feels like all he wants to do, at this point in time. Nothing really feels any different, but if anything, maybe, Chanyeol just feels a little more sated, a little more content, more secure. He kisses Jongdae, and then he kisses him all over again, and just keeps on kissing him, because time is moving forward and won’t ever stop, but they’ll always be together, and so long as Jongdae is by Chanyeol’s side, then they have all the time in the world.

 

 

✪ ✪ ✪

 

“Chanyeol,” a familiar voice says, and Chanyeol grunts. “It’s time to wake up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Chanyeol whines, petulantly, and slings his arm over Jongdae protectively. “Sleep.”

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” Jongdae whines, somewhere in between giggling, and wriggles until he’s out of Chanyeol’s grasp, putting space between them. “We need to get up.”

“Need is such a strong word,” Chanyeol mumbles, and reaches out blindly until his hand hits Jongdae’s shoulder and he can pull his warm body back in again, snuggling into him stubbornly. Jongdae sighs.

“So this is kinda gay,” Baekhyun says, as he swings the bedroom door open smugly, leaning against it, arms folded, and Chanyeol just groans at the light from the living room, holding Jongdae hostage as he hides his face in the sheets.

“We’re kinda gay,” Jongdae answers, with fake solemness, and then he and Baekhyun grin at each other before simultaneously ripping the sheets off of Chanyeol, causing him to cry out in pain, loudly. (Thankfully, incidents similar to this in the past have taught Chanyeol that sleeping in underwear is a very good idea, but still.)

“I need your hand with a box or two before you head to work,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol just rolls off the end of the bed, still moaning, mumbling about being up and out in a second.

By the time Chanyeol showers, shoves on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans without holes in them, Jongdae’s already making breakfast at the stove, Sehun still doing… whatever it is he does in the depths of the dark dimension, and Baekhyun shuffling boxes into neat stacks so he knows what to take and what to throw out. Admittedly, it’s not a whole lot, and the hole Baekhyun takes up just by being here himself will be a lot harder to fill than the space in the TV cabinet from the PS4’s absence. (Chanyeol had lost at the most important game of paper-scissors-rock in his life, and it still haunts him to this day.)

Good thing Jongdae’s got a friend from out of town --Zitao, or something-- who needs a place to crash, but more often than not lately Chanyeol finds himself staying at Jongdae’s anyway, wondering if it’s even worth it forking over his third of the rent. Then again, he can actually kind of afford it, these days, since Yixing’s employers liked the couple of acoustic clips Chanyeol had sent them, and Chanyeol can still fit a couple of hours at Junmyeon’s store in too. Minseok and Han seem like cool guys, and the game they’ve created together is even cooler. It’s nothing too fancy, but hopefully Chanyeol can write a couple of things to suit it, finish off the game with the little extra touches.

Yixing still asks Chanyeol for that piece from the time they’d first met, occasionally; Chanyeol always tells him the same thing: that it’s not quite done yet, needing a little refinement, even if he has it written down on lined paper all prim and proper with ‘ _For him.’_ scrawled at the top in Chanyeol’s shitty handwriting. Chanyeol never did get his big, serenading love confession that he’d always wanted to give Jongdae, but maybe there’ll be a chance for that, a little bit later, even if they’re not the type of couple that suit something like _that_ in the slightest.

“Don’t forget we have that double date with Baekhyunnie and Soo tonight,” Jongdae reminds Chanyeol, after they’ve eaten their eggs and toast and Baekhyun had made disgusted comments about domesticity in his sacred space, coughing _gay_ underneath his breath every time Chanyeol and Jongdae leaned across the counter to kiss. “So don’t be late.”

“I won’t be,” Chanyeol replies, and lets Jongdae fiddle with the collar of his jacket, smoothing down the lapels. “I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“Even if you were late,” Jongdae tells him, and smiles that tiny, soft smile that Chanyeol’s begun to recognise as the one meant specifically for him. “I still wouldn’t be.”

“ _Gaaaaaayyyyy_ ,” Baekhyun shouts from the living room, as Chanyeol just grins and leans down at the same time Jongdae leans up, pressing their mouths together.

“Love you,” Chanyeol mumbles, and Jongdae hums, grinning against his lips.

“Love you too,” he says, and adds, “Yes homo.”

Chanyeol wrinkles his nose in embarrassment, and Jongdae just cackles delightedly, kissing the tip of it. Chanyeol feels warm at the way Jongdae looks when he laughs, and so he leans down and kisses him again, still standing in the doorway.

“You really need to go,” Jongdae mumbles, kissing him right back.

“Mhmm.”

“Chanyeol.”

“ _Mhmmgpgh_.”

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” Jongdae says, and pushes him away. “Go.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae kisses him, but it’s kind of a familiar routine, by this stage.

People may change, and some will come and some will go, but some parts of them will always stay the same no matter what. Even as Chanyeol enters the serious business world and has a boyfriend for the first time in his life, he’s still only simply Chanyeol _,_ and Jongdae will always be Jongdae. The only thing that's even different between them is that they have their sappy, displays of public affection every five minutes, but just like how Baekhyun refuses to wear anything but Chuck Taylors even with Kyungsoo’s pestering to buy 'proper'  shoes, Chanyeol will always love Jongdae no matter what --and that part of him will never change.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> for reference that nobody cares about: the guitar piece chanyeol plays is [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIbmHCtvq70)


End file.
